With the Intent to Be Lost
by TheRedPenofDoom87
Summary: AU-"In the world they come from, they are not graced with such options, such choices. There is usually only one, and it's usually bloody." When Rosalee gets clean, she takes up with the Wesen Council to become the scourge of the European J rings until her brother is murdered. Series of one-shots, eventual MonroexRosalee
1. With the Intent to be Lost

So lovlies, here is my newest venture that I dreamed up while working on Sharp Edges and Dark Corners. I was super intrigued by Council Agent (Alexander…can't find a last name) and not just because was attractive… but then I wondered what Rosalee would look like in that role or a similar one. And this is what my brain produced.

If you've read any of my MonroexRosalee fics, you know I work in one-shots and arcs, so this one is going to be structured in several arcs (usually 3 one-shots=one arc) and the first three will be retelling "Island of Dreams" "Cat and Mouse" and an amalgam of the last two episodes of season 2- or at least that's the plan for now. So basically, small canon divergence and it'll keep getting bigger the farther in I go.

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all here, I'm just doing this to keep myself sane through the rest of grad school and because I wanna see Rosalee as a different kind of badass, one kind just isn't enough

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><p>"<em><strong>The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent/ to be lost that their loss is no disaster..." Elizabeth Bishop "One Art"**_

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><p>Pretending to be someone else always came easily to Rose. She slipped into someone else's life as easily as she slipped on a new jacket; no wrinkles and everyone was the right size. She lost herself for days or weeks at a time in a different life, perfecting hand gestures and smirks to blend in as seamlessly as possible. The devil's in the details after all and they didn't call her a vixen for nothing.<p>

She thanks the waiter who brings their wine with a wave of her French tipped nails. He nods and leaves them the bottle, dashing away to another table in the crowded restaurant on the Rue Bernard Claude. "So, if I agree, what am I going to get out this? Your reach is going to extend all the way to Vienna and into the Balkans out of my establishments."

Objectively, she could find Louis Sherra attractive, shoulder length dark brown hair with just a hint of silver at the temple, broad shoulders and sharp dark eyes that didn't miss a thing. 'Could' being the operative word.

He swirls the red around in the bell shaped glass while he considers. "I can cut you in for twenty five. After all, _I_ have to be sure the product gets to the Austrian border. Customs and all that."

She laughs for real. "I know how Customs work and we both know that you aren't paying customs on your product."

A grin works its way across his mouth. "You see, I keep underestimating you, _Madam_."

She takes a dainty sip of the red. It's very good. She'll have to make a note of the label and order a few bottles once she's home. "I prefer '_Frau*_'." Maybe though, if they get this all squared away she can buy some before boarding the train tomorrow morning.

He leans in on his elbows. "Very well, _Frau_ Fletcher."

"So what can we do about that twenty five percent then?" She wonders, mirroring him. Her dress, a low cut green satin number was the best €100 she's spent in while.

"For you I'll bump it up to thirty five percent." He reaches across the table to run a finger down her hand in what she supposes is a guaranteed seduction move. She swallows her laughter and leans in a little farther.

"Forty," she counters in a low voice, making him listen. "I operate out of Amsterdam, Louis. Right under the Council's nose. At least make it worth my while."

He drains his glass. "Forty. On one condition."

She refills his glass and tops off her own. "Do tell."

"I'll cut you in for forty, if you make Paris a regular travel destination."

She holds up her glass. "I think that can be arranged...To new business partners."

"To _trés belle*_ business partners."

Their glasses clink with a note of finality.

"Now that all the business is over, why don't we head to some place...quieter for dinner? My hotel has excellent room service."

"Of course, Frau Fletcher..."

"Just give me a moment to powder my nose." She grabs her purse and retreats to the back of the restaurant.

Their waiter follows.

Once behind a corner, near the kitchen, he asks her in a low whisper as she pulls out her compact. "Did you get it? Is it done?"

"_Naturallment*_," she replies as she dabs gloss on her lower lip from where it smudged on the wineglass. "We're heading to my hotel room for room service." She waggles her eyebrows.

Alexander rolls his eyes. "Must you be so...vulgar, Rose?" he asks in German.

"It was his idea that visits to Paris should be part of the deal. Why? Are you finally jealous?" Rose replies, also in German.

Ignoring her jibe entirely, Alexander pulls out his phone. "I've gotten word that they've taken out the warehouse in Marseille and are moving in on the one in Nice."

"Then we've got to move fast. Pay them extra," She nods in the direction of the kitchen. "and be ready to cut us off in five. I don't want to be with him any longer than I have to be. It took me six months to get Louis Scheera in person and I'm not going to blow it now."

She leads him down the street and steers him closer to a nearby alley way. Rosalee pretends just fine, pretends to be a cool, collected wealthy Trauminsel owner who isn't bothered by a bit of blood here and there. It's part of the business after all. But Louis' arm around her waist makes her shiver and not in the most delicious way possible. Someone wolf-whistles behind them. And any other time, she would ignore it. "My God," she mutters to Louis. "Can't a girl get five minutes?" she turns. "...It's the waiter..."

He turns and shouts something in rapid French (something along the lines of "bastard" and "born in a gutter") as Alexander approaches. "You are Louis Scheera, aren't you?"

Louis turns, woging into his Luisant-Pêcheur face. "Who's asking?"

"Alexander Steiner. And you will come with me."

"On whose authority?"

"The Council's."

The gun she's been keeping a careful eye on, finally emerges. He holds it up to Rose's neck, while grabbing her wrists together behind her back in one hand.

Stupid.

"Now Monsieur Steiner...I'm sure you wouldn't want any harm to come to my business partner." He prods her with the muzzle before settling it against her shoulder, pointed at Alexander.

Clumsy. She knots her fingers together.

Alexander holds his hands up, palms facing them. He nods at her.

In the same quick motion, she yanks her wrists free and jabs him with her stilettos. He makes a satisfying grunt of pain as she pulls away. Alexander already moving in, he knees Louis in the side.

"Stupid-" Louis shouts as he grabs for the gun and manages to get a single shot off. White-hot pain zips across her left shoulder and the smell of burnt flesh and explosives settles on the Paris street but she holds her ground, determined not to give him an ounce of satisfaction. The sounds of sirens start to rise, lights turn on in the surrounding buildings.

"Rose !" Alexander glances up but can't go to her, instead he presses his knee a little farther into Louis' back.

"I'm fine. It's just a graze." She stalks over to Louis, who is still squirming. "Too bad," she says to Louis. "Before it was just going to be fraudulent papers and customs evasions." She drops to her knees. "Now, it's attempted murder." The sirens grow louder and the flashing lights appear. She lets out a piteous wail as the Paris police swarm the streets.

* * *

><p>*German for "Ms."<p>

* very beautiful

*Naturally

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><p>Rosalee sits patiently, secretly glad to be off her feet, keeps a stream of grateful tears as the nurses coo in French in the ER. They dab at her arm before stitching and wrapping it carefully. They hand her a sling and tell her to keep from moving it too much in the next week.<p>

When she's deemed ready, Alexander meets her at the front. Normally, he's all smiles and champagne after a successful apprehension but his demeanor is somber, but she chalks it up to the bullet graze and her being in the hospital. In her first year in the Hague, they had an unfortunate run in with a pack of Verrat Hundijagers that put Alexander in the hospital for a week. She escaped with a mild concussion and a shiner but she barely left his bedside. And she'd been no ray of sunshine either.

As he always does, he offers his arm and leads her to the waiting car.

"Did we get a different train?" She wonders as she settles in, careful of the sling the hospital gave her. Reaching down, she slips off her heels and rolls her ankles.

"Yes, De Groot wants us back in Den Haag as soon as possible. We're going to catch the first train out of Mannheim."

"Lovely," she settles back against the seat to nap for the next three hours. Her whole neck is stiff and an ache radiates from her left arm is starting to set in across her shoulders. "They gave me some pain meds. Hand a few to me?"

He hands her the bottle already opened.

She tosses back a few and glances over at him. Alexander taps the edge of his phone against his thigh. Lights from the street throw his long face into sharp relief and he looks in that moment so much like the panther he is. "What is it? What's wrong? You're never this down afterwards."

"You should sleep." Is all he says.

"Tell me."

Alexander sighs. "De Groot received a message while we were gone. From Portland."

Her heart stills. Not Freddy, she prays. And hates her self for choosing Freddy. But he was the one who was there for her when she needed him.

"It seems your brother was murdered this morning."

At first, the words circle her, not touching her. Alexander does not say anything more He sits with his long elbows atop his knees, head in his hands. The words, the ones she knows are true, are too big, to full to take in as they are. She waits until they break down into sizable syllables that go ringing around in her brain until they reform into their true sounds. Freddie... murdered. Gone.

"I'm sorry, _Schatz*_." Alexander says finally.

She buries her face in her hand at the sound of the affection in his voice and his hand on her back.

"I'm so so sorry."

All at once, she'd give everything to be anyone else.

* * *

><p>*German for sweetheart, or honey, a term of endearment<p>

* * *

><p>It's not her first ride with the police, but she had hoped she wouldn't have made this a habit. "Promise me," Freddy insisted the last time. "No more."<p>

His words keep ringing in her hears this morning as she walked into the police department. There were offers to help her with her bag, but she waved them away with her free hand but when she asked for Detective Burkhardt, she only received pointed fingers and looks of pity.

He seemed nice enough; standing to greet and offering her coffee after what he assumed was a long flight and in reality was nearly twenty four hours of travel, along with an apology. He seemed nice enough with bright green eyes and a jawline that could cut glass. On his desk, sat a picture of a very pretty woman with red hair and a smile that lit up the frame. No ring, though, on either of them.

In Rose's absence, wide swaths of Portland had the gall to change. Streets her mother used to warn her off (or at least try to) have become up and coming neighborhoods with hip coffee shops and specialty stores for things she didn't know needed their own stores like olive oil and refurbished thrift store clothes, boutiques with birds on everything. She's tempted to send Alexander a newsboy cap with a snappy red cardinal on it. He'd hate it.

"Amsterdam's an awfully long way from Portland." The Detective notes. "What do you do there?"

"Den Haag, actually." She replies using the Dutch pronunciation. "I'm an consultant. For Interpol." On paper, she was at least. And she did give her 'report' on Louis Scheera to one of their main contacts in Interpol, a Malin Fatal, to process and convict.

"What's your specialty?" He probes the careful silence that has settled on them since she got in his car.

"Fraud, identity theft, trafficking." She lists off. It's all true in one manner or another.

His eyebrows quirk upward. "I wouldn't have pegged you for that."

"I don't fit the type then?" she wonders.

"Hey, I read people for a living." He glances over at her.

"So do I," she replies.

"And I'm not wrong very often."

She matches him. "Neither am I."

A smirk works up his cheek, revealing a dimple. "So, your injury was work related?"

"Why don't you tell me, Detective." She replies, turning back to the window to watch the newly-familiar street signs whiz by: Burnside, Everett, Irving, Kearney. "I can give you my boarding passes and a copy of my credit card statements to prove I was in Paris on the day of my brother's murder. And to prove I didn't take a hit out on him."

"I didn't-"

"No, you didn't, but you're a detective and family members are always the first suspects."

He lets out a snort of laughter at being caught out in his own game. "They are."

"And I'm sure you did your research." _I would_, she thinks.

"You had a couple of B&Es a few years ago. Some jail time. And then radio silence."

She nods. "Freddy's the one who helped me achieve that radio silence. I owe him everything."

"So, tell me why he listed you as a emergency contact when you live all the way in...Den Haag?" He attempts to mimic her accent but fails horribly. "And your mother and sister live in the same state?" He wonders.

She bites the corner of her lip, choosing her words. "In another life, I did what Freddy did. Alternative cures, teas, soaps...but I...needed to get away for a while. I suppose he wanted someone who knew the business. My mom is...frail and my sister doesn't have the head for it."

"What's she do? Your sister?"

Rosalee shook her head. "I...I don't know." She couldn't remember what Deetta had been up to last. And the last time she'd asked...

He doesn't say anything more on the subject but he sets his shoulders as they pull into a spot in front of the shop.

Rose grips the strap of her bag. The signs are all the same in the window, the same blue and gold, except of course for the police tape winding its way across the sidewalk. She hasn't set foot in the shop in nearly three years and yet, it feels as though someone has reached in and grabbed a hold of her heart.

Everything's the same, except for the soft coppery smell of blood lingering in the air. Sniffing, she looks down to see one of the rugs soaked in it. She drops down to her knees; the breath knocked clean out of her. Without meaning to, she woges and tries her hardest not to cry in front of...

The back of her neck burns as she feels his eyes on her, as though he's seeing all the way in, through all the lies and layers, all the people she pretends to be. She turns and it's the recognition that gives him away.

"I-" He starts, eyes wide and hand extended like he would a wild animal.

She retracts and scrambles clumsily to her feet. The word on her tongue. _Grimm_. And she's without her partner or the use of her right arm.

"I'm not going to hurt you..." his words are well practiced, smooth. "I swear."

"Did _you_ kill him?!" She manages to spit out. "Did you?!" She checks the front desk for anything, she could use to fight her way out. Not even a letter opener in the mess. Shit.

"I didn't hurt your brother, I swear."

"You know I can't trust a damn thing you say." She snarls over her shoulder.

He takes another few steps back. "Did you know your brother was dealing?"

Her heart plummets. "No..." she breathes. He wouldn't, not after everything. "Dealing in what?"

"Human body parts...Like Gallenblase. That's-"

"I know what it is. But no, I didn't know."

"He was working with Giers-"

"Did they kill my brother?"

"I don't know..." He reaches for his jacket and she shrinks against the desk. He holds out a card. "If you think of anything or see anything, call me."

She takes it and flips it over a few times. She looks up at him, trying to find that killer edge that her childhood nightmares were made of, born from stories her father used to tell about bad Wesen (read Fuschbau) children who didn't listen to their elders who were dragged into the darkness by the big bad Grimm. But it eludes her entirely. There's no trace of it anywhere in his huge green eyes. Or if it is there, she's losing her touch

When he's gone, she waits until she can't hear the rumble of his monstrous jeep she thought they would have long since outlawed. She pulls out her phone and dials De Groot and waits for his gruff "_Guten Abend_, Frau Calvert. "

"He's a Grimm." She whispers. "The Detective who's handling Freddy's death."

"Does he know? Did he see?" _Did you let slip who you work for_, is what he's asking. _Have we been compromised?_

"...Yes...I couldn't help it. But I didn't say anything about the Council."

De Groot is quiet for a moment before he asks the inevitable question: "Did he kill your brother?"

"He...he says he didn't."

"And do you believe him?"

"I—I think I do."

"Keep a sharp eye." He warns. "We have to be sure he wasn't killed because of his connection. I am trusting you, Frau Calvert to get to the bottom of this."

"I understand."

He lets out a low sigh. "I should hate to think that this is the beginning of trend. In the mean time, I am re-assigning you to Portland to serve as contact person, as your brother was, and your father."

"I understand."

"I expect to be kept informed of the situation."

"Of course."

"Will you require Alexander's help?"

"No." She mutters. "No, I'm doing this on my own."

* * *

><p>In twenty four hours, she barely slept. Last night, Rose spent hours staring at the darkened ceiling, caught between jet-lag and sorrow; the couch was far less comfortable than she imagined but she couldn't find it in herself to sleep in the bed. Back at the shop, she's only managed to roll up the ruined rug, ready to be thrown out and barely started on the inventory when there's a knock at the door.<p>

Sighing, she hops from the stool behind the front desk and goes to the door.

The Grimm is there with someone who is not his partner. Or at least not the one from the station. While every instinct tells her not to, she cracks the door open. "What's this? Another partner?"

"No." The Grimm glances up at the man at his side and then back to her. "He's...my consultant...I guess?"

The other man shrugs. "I suppose that's a word we could use."

She lets them both in while the Grimm makes the introductions. "Monroe, this is Rosalee Calvert. Rosalee Calvert, this is Monroe."

Monroe offers a hand to her. "I was really sorry to hear about your brother." He towers over the Grimm by a good five inches even as he hunches his broad shoulders just a touch, not out of self-consciousness but more of an awareness of how his general height and size might intimidate someone.

"Did you know him?" She shakes as best she can with her left hand. His fingers are callused and so much bigger than hers. But his hands are careful and restrained, self-taught traits she's sure. If he's one of those rare gentle giants, that remains to be seen.

"No, but our paths crossed a few times." His voice, measured and calm, radiates that same feeling through the room, despite the Grimm's presence. And there's only one possible explanation for it.

For just a moment, his eyes catch the light and she sees the distinctive red shadow on the edge of his iris. He tries pull his hand back but she grasps it tight. She has to be sure. She woges and steps back. He lets go too. It's been a while since she's seen a Blutbad in the flesh like this.

When they both retract, she turns to the Grimm. "I...I don't understand...How-how does this work?" A Grimm with a Blutbad on a leash? She's not going to walk out of this city alive.

"It's... complicated." Monroe assures her.

"Yeah..." she agrees slowly. "I can see that."

"Do you think it would be all right if we take a look in the basement?" The Grimm asks her.

She crosses her free arm over her chest. "I thought the police already did."

"We did. But I'd like to take another look around," he gestures to Monroe. "With my consultant."

"I haven't finished a complete inventory yet, so I'm not sure exactly what's down there."  
>"Is there anything in here someone might kill for?"<p>

"Not a Kereshite... A Wesen...probably. Like I said, I'm not entirely sure what's in here yet. It could be any number of things."

"Can we help, then? Maybe speed up the process?" The Grimm asks.

She glances between them. "I don't suppose I have any choice, do I?" She sticks her phone in her pocket and grabs her inventory list and leads them down to the basement. They start on opposite ends, she lets them do all the heavy lifting while she sorts the tinier bottles.

"Wait..." Monroe starts. "This box is opened." She hears him fiddling with jars and then the quick snap of a jar opening.

Rose looks up from her inventory, the lingering smell wafting over to her. She grits her teeth against the memories it brings up.

"It looks like jacine...its a sort of mold that grows on some...tree...or something. But it's pretty poisonous to you know, you. But it's like an opiate for us-granted that it's used correctly."

"And incorrectly?" The Grimm asks.

Monroe shakes his head. "Nothing good."

Rose stands behind them. "It can be very addictive." She murmurs. "Think of Oxytocin mixed with heroin. Not good for your liver or brain." She takes the jar from Monroe and unscrews the cap for herself and sniffs. "It's a quality batch."

They exchange a glance between them and then to her.

"How quality?" The Grimm asked. "Good enough to kill for?"

"It's possible," she peers into he box and counts the jars, ignoring the knowing look in Monroe's eyes. "There are a few missing but without finishing the inventory, it's impossible to be sure."

The Grimm claps his hands to together. "Could you finish your inventory and make a list of _all_ the things you have that a Wesen would kill for?"

She nods. "I could finish it in the next day or two." They bid her goodnight and make her promise to call if she needs any help. But she waves them off.

It's almost eleven whens she hears the door to the shop open and then close. She frowns, thinking she's kept it locked. Just as she's about to call out, the smell hits her. Skalengecks. Grabbing her box cutter, she ducks behind one of the taller shelves, waiting as the voices grow louder and louder. "...forgot to turn out the lights. Now, let's get the stuff and get out of here."

They attack the boxes (but from here she can't see which ones), stuffing it in their pockets and bags. Rose throws her head back and breathes as silently as she can, compelling her pounding heart to slow even though she knows they can't hear.

In the near silence, her phone sings out. Cursing internally, she scrambles to pull it out of her pocket one handed and silence it. Meanwhile the men bicker over whose phone it is. Just as she turns it off, a real silence descends. And then.

One of them, wearing his Skalengeck face appears on her other side. Rose slashes at him with the box cutter, catches the edge of his shirt and a little flesh and she backs away, only to fall into the other's arms. This one grabs her free wrist while the other advances. She kicks back with a roar, catching the one holding her wrist between his legs. He goes down groaning. She ducks past the advancing Skalengeck, who's back to human, and rushes to the stairs.

With a boom, one of them smashes through the drywall and grabs her ankle. "Fucker!" She screams and stabs his hand with the box cutter so deep it stays in. He lets loose a howl. She takes the stairs two at a time until she hits the street. Rose slams the door shut behind her and slides the wooden bar over it. She hears them hit the door but it doesn't stop her from running in the opposite direction, wishing that maybe she had kept either the Grimm or the Blutbad on retainer, though she's not sure which is the lesser of two evils.

* * *

><p>Her adrenaline has only started to slow when there's a knock at the door. She's only been back at her brother's for ten minutes and she marvels at the speed. When the Grimm had her picked up at the restaurant she'd run to, he brought her to the station to try to pin down the identities. Clint Vickers and Joshua Hall. The Grimm pulled their mug shots up on his monitor. She kept repeating their names to herself; she's going to move heaven and earth to find them and make them pay.<p>

She opens the door to find Monroe. "Hey," he greets her.

"Hey," she replies and ushers him in. "I still don't see why this is necessary."

"Nick would rather his witness is alive, you know. And you said you didn't want anymore police."

"A Grimm Detective is quite enough for me, thank you. Besides you'd be able to smell them a mile away."

"So you trust me then?"

"Only slightly more than him." Rose digs through her brother's cabinets and makes a triumphant sound when she finds a bottle of Jäegermister. "I don't know about you, but I'm in need of a little depressant. Want one?"

"If you're offering..." She finds two clean glasses and pours plenty in each. "So why only slightly more than him?"

"You haven't tired to kill me. And I figured if you haven't at least tried by now you probably won't." She takes a deep sip and winces at the burn. It's been a while.

"Maybe I'm just waiting for the right moment."

"Nope. You Blutbad are all the same, you're high-spirited and you let your emotions get the better of you."

"If it makes a difference, I'm not like that anymore, " He insists, taking a sip.

"No, " She smiles over the rim of her glass. "I don't suppose you are. Because, apparently, Portland isn't weird enough."

"So, are you really a consultant for Interpol?"

She tosses back a little more. "I don't know; are you really working with a Grimm?" She counters.

"Touché." He holds out his glass and she taps it.

"Just to be clear, you're here because he asked you to and because I didn't want a police detail? He arranged that?"

"That's about the size of it."

"I don't get it; what's in it for him?"

"Stringent set of morals? Police academy training gone horribly wrong?" Monroe shrugs. "Damned if I know."

She swirls the little bit left in her glass. "So...are you going to ask me?"

Panic flits across his face. "Ask you what?"

"About earlier. About the 'J'."

"You do seem to know quite a bit." He takes another sip. "Sounds like from first hand...experience. No judgment though..."

"Yeah," Rose doesn't look up from her glass. "I hit a rough patch. For about seven years. Freddy helped me, when I need it, found me a job in The Hague." She shrugs as if it's just another day and not her entire life crashing down on top of her. She finishes the last bit and stands. "I'm exhausted. Still a little jetlagged. But you're welcome to the couch and anything in the fridge. There are extra blankets in the hall closet if you need them."

He leans back against the couch. "_Guten Nacht_,"* he waves.

"_Sprechen Si Deutsch_?"* She asks on a whim.

"_Ja."_

She pauses in the hallway and asks in German. "_Haben Sie ihm Vertauen_?"*

"_Ja_."

"Why?"

Monroe presses his fingers together before answering, albeit in English: "He's not like all the stories we grew up with. He's...just trying to do the right thing here."

Rose nods and retreats to the bedroom. She leans against the closed door and digs out her phone again. She dials Alexander's number.

"_Ja_?" He answers sleepily. It must be early; she didn't even bother to try to figure out what time it is there.

Rose almost cries at the sound of his voice. "_C'est moi._"*

"Rose?! What is it? Where are you? De Groot told me-"

"I'm fine," she replies in French, praying that Monroe doesn't understand, let alone hear. "I'm okay. I need you to do something for me."

"Anything_ Schatz_, anything."

"Clint Vickers and Joshua Hall. They killed my brother. Skalengecks." She spits the last word. "I need to know if they have any ties to anyone in the Verrat or any other organizations. Family, friends. Anything."

"Rose-"

"Please...please just do this for me."

He breathes heavily against the phone. "Alright, _Schatz_. I will."

"_Danke*, _Alexander."

* * *

><p>*Good night<p>

* Do you speak German?

* Do you trust him?

*It's me

*thank you

* * *

><p>"You've done plenty," The Grimm insists. "Wait here." He glares at her through the rearview mirror, as if trying to pin her there.<p>

She hands over the ticket to Monroe, who at least has the decency to shoot her a look of sympathy before he gets out of the car. And its all she can do not to flop back against the seat like a petulant seventeen year old denied the car keys. It's not like she got them the tickets or saved his sergeant's life or anything.

Her phone tweets in her pocket. "_Ja_?" She doesn't even bother to check who it is.

"Rose? I couldn't find anything on your Clint Vickers or Joshua Hall. As far as I can see...they've got no ties to anyone big."

Fury, cold and all consuming, erupts in her throat. "_Danke_," and hangs up the phone. Fuming, she waits until she can't see them anymore and slips her arm out of it's sling. She tiptoes around the building, looking for a way in. _Stay in the car, my ass_, she thinks as she digs out her lock pick set that she's not sure how she got past security at the airport and goes to work on the back door. She even had to teach Alexander how to make locks sing; he thought it was too far beneath him, too much a common criminal trait.

Before she can get a good handle on it, shots ring out from inside, screams rise and then there the sound of running feet. She grabs a brick from the pile in the corner and runs toward the sounds. She finds Monroe, easily, as she's head and shoulders over the rest of the crowd. But he doesn't wave to her.

The man between them holds both arms stretches out in front of him. Rose catches sight of a white bandage on his hand, stained with blood. Without a word, she kicks him hard in the ribs and he drops. He turns to shout but she's there and gives him one more good kick to the face. He goes still. Alexander would be so proud.

Rose stands over him, brick in her hand. One quick smack with it and they'd be one less murder to contend with. "You didn't care about him...he was just in the way." She says to the unconscious body. "So you killed him. A means to an end."

"Rosalee..." Monroe starts walking toward her slowly.

She glares at him. "Why shouldn't I?! This is my only shot at justice. The Grimm certainly isn't going to get me any."

He reaches out for her hand. "But that's not what this is."

"I don't need a morality lesson from a Blutbad!" She spits.

"Really? Because it looks like you do. Look, you're better than this."

"How do you know?"

"Because I can see it."

When she doesn't say anything more, he slides the brick out of her hand without taking his eyes from hers. _I'm not like that anymore_ he said last night, the same mantra she's kept up for the last few years. _I'm not like that anymore. I'm a different person now._ She looks down at the unconscious body._ I'm not like you._

But she almost wasn't; she clasps her now empty hands together, screwing her face up against the tears howling to be free. He reaches out again, but this time for her shoulder. But she jerks away. Turning, she walks slowly back to the car.

She digs her phone out of her pocket but her thumb hovers over the contacts; the one person she wants to talk to is isn't going to answer. Trembling, she presses his number anyway and waits through all the rings until his voice fills her ear:

"You've reached Freddy Calvert. I'm not available right now. Leave your name and a detailed message and I'll get back to you."

She clicks it off and slides back into the back seat of the car, suddenly exhausted.

* * *

><p>Rose thought each previous day had been the hardest since her father's death. She woke and for a brief moment, believed the worst was finally was behind her. But it wasn't. After all the business at the Trauminsel and the arrest, she got an email from her mother; she'd be unable to make the trip up to Portland. She said nothing about Dietta.<p>

This morning had been no different except that she doesn't want to have to put on the black dress she laid out last night, or step into the shoes she picked out or wear the damned hose. Rose rolled onto her back, cursing the sun shining on today of all days and that it's probably beautiful out. She traced the light filtering through her window to the flower arrangement on the desk. Over the last week, the shop was littered with them; white lilies mostly. But this one was bright; blood orange tulips, baby's breath and a note: 'It's not equal trade for my life but I hope it helps evens the score. –M.'

She smiled but it's not enough to banish the gloom settling on her. Rosalee stands at the graveside, alone, free arm tucked under her sling, watching the reverend say the last of the eulogy; it's dry and unimaginative but she lets it go. She looks up and can't remember seeing so many different Wesen in one place at one time. It's not like this in The Hague; they all scurry about, hoping and praying not to be noticed by either the Council or the Royals. They're only trying to keep their heads down and get on with their lives.

It's a testament to her brother, she supposes. Not out of fear or force, but affection. He was beloved, a pillar of the community. He always did take his big brother role to heart, ever playing the mediator between her and Dietta's fights, taking her in when she had no other place to go. He wasn't perfect, but he'd been a good brother, the best one she'd ever had.

As the reverend says the final benediction, she notices two figures standing at a distance. Picking her way through the crowd, she finds Monroe and the Grimm.

"What are you doing here?" she wonders.

"Thought we'd come pay our respects," the Grimm insists.

"You do realize that most of that crowd is Wesen and if you get any closer, they'll all freak." She points out.

"She's right, dude."

"Well, I also came to deliver these." He hands over a sheaf of papers.

"What?" She skims over them and realizes they're court summons. "How? They said it may take months to get them in front of a judge..."

"I may have... pulled a few strings." He smiles like a cat with a canary feathers. "Besides, I think we got off on the wrong foot." He offers a hand. "I'm Nick," he reintroduces himself. "I'm a homicide detective and a Grimm on a learning curve."

She shakes his hand finally. "It's nice to meet you. I hope you don't decide to chop my head off."

That at least elicits a laugh from Monroe. She glances between the pair of them, smiling despite the day.

* * *

><p>Thoughts? Reviews? I've never done an AU before on purpose-normally I'm a stick to the canon kinda gal.<p> 


	2. And, vaster

Hello again Lovlies! Thanks for staying tune for part 2 of my experiment!

I'd like to thank **WolfStar4 **for beta'ing and always being there for me to bounce ideas off as well as encouragement from **LittleBounce.**

Like I said, its going to be slight canon divergences that will slowly create a bigger canon divergence (good lord how many times can I use that word in a sentence).

PS. Please see the note at the end!

**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all, every twist is from my imagination but NBC owns everything else.**

* * *

><p>"<strong>...I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent./ I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster."~ Elizabeth Bishop "One Art"**

* * *

><p>She's only staying until she finds a replacement; she keeps telling herself as her customers introduce themselves and use her name as if they'd known her whole life. They recount entire family histories and ailments, showing her how they fit in here and where her place is too. They pick for details about her life in Den Haag, ranging from questions about the food and the language to what she did. The answer she always gives is always the same: "Consultant." For the most part, they welcome her as if she were one of them. She tells herself that it's because they need her knowledge, her books, and her parents' wisdom that she's rediscovering day by day.<p>

The Grimm-Nick- she keeps reminding herself, keeps popping up, asking for her help with one case after another. And where Nick goes poking, she's learning, Monroe is always following (most times dragged) behind. Against every better judgment she's developed over the years, she saves both their numbers and assigns them their own ringtones. It's just easier to know when she's going on some wild ass goose chase that may or may not end up with one of them dead (thankfully, that still hasn't happened).

But she's still got De Groot's instructions to "be quite sure" about her brother's murder. "I need you to do something for me," She says to Nick the day after he gets back from his vacation with the elusive girlfriend. "I need to talk to the men who killed my brother.

He sighs and runs a hand over the back of his neck. "I don't-"

"Please. It's important."  
>"It's not that I don't want to help, it's just that a lot of that is out of my hands."<br>"You owe me." She grimaces. She didn't want to have to play that card but there it is. "For your police partner and your sergeant. And for the Seltenvogel."

He sighs. "Just tell me what you need to know and I'll find out." He pulls out his notebook and pen, ready to take down her questions.

"No, it has to be in person."

He groans. "All right. All right. It'll take me a few days to arrange it. But don't broadcast what I'm doing it's definitely against procedure."

He promised to help but it's been two weeks. Just as she's about to call him and bug him about it again, there's a bang on the door so loud the bell above shakes a little. She checks her watch; she's got ten minutes until she officially opens. She sneaks a peek through the window and gasps. "Ian?" She opens the door and pulls him in.

The moment she grasps him by the shoulders, he falls into her. She's immensely glad to be free of her sling. "Where's Freddy?" He groans against her shoulder. "I need..."

"Freddy's dead. He was murdered a month ago." She lifts her hand from his side and it comes away covered in blood. "Ian... what that-"

"Hundjäger." He spits.

"It wasn't-"

Ian nods solemnly. "Verrat."

"Shit..." She helps him to his feet and to the cot to lay him down. She eases his sweater and shirt off to get a better look. It's clean and the bullet isn't too far in. Based on his ability to still form semi-full sentences and find his way here without a car, there isn't serious internal damage; he's lucky it stopped before it hit his lung. But at some point, he'll need a doctor. A real one.

But, by the way, he's gritting his teeth, he needs something to relax him. She dips into her supply of jacine that she keeps hidden in the basement. She pours out the biggest dose he's comfortable with and heats it above the Bunsen burner flame. The smell of a thousand terrible choices, of nights when she forgot where the moon was wafts through her like a fog. She bits her lip and wills herself to focus.

As she dips the needle into the mixture and pulls the plunger back, he seems to remember where he is, who she is. "I thought you lived in The Netherlands...?"

"I do-I did. I'm taking a break for a while." She looks for a vein on his good arm.

"Those were good days..." He murmurs as she inserts the needle and pushes the plunger down. "Good food. Good view." His hand finds hers; she ignores how clammy it is, how much they shake and smiles for him, it's the least she can do. "Good you." His eyelids flutter and he drops off into what she hopes is a dreamless sleep. Rose waits until his hand goes limp in hers before she pulls it away.

Cupping her face in her hands for a moment, Rosalee takes a deep breath in to steady her quickly fraying nerves. As if being back in Portland wasn't enough of a blast from the past, here's Ian quietly bleeding all over it. "I'm not even supposed to be here." She hisses to him.

He hasn't changed much in the almost four year absence, except age. There are new lines around his eyes that weren't there before; she would know. His cheekbones are more defined, his skin weathered. New scars crisscross his chest and arms. He still smells the same and if she closes her eyes, ignores the blood; she travels back in time for a moment. She's back in his tiny studio flat in Amsterdam on Oosteinde Street, pretending the sun isn't coming up and that she doesn't have to go back to Den Haag alone.

A ringtone that's not hers sings out. She digs Ian's phone of his jeans pocket. 'Portland' calling scrolls across the screen. Her thumb hovers above accept button but instead changes her mind and sets it next to him. Ian twitches in his sleep and turns a little toward her, maybe having the same memories.

There's only person, she can think of to help get the bullet out. "_Guten Mogen_..." she murmurs when he picks up.

And of course, the first thing he says when he gets there twenty minutes later is: "I smell blood."

"Yeah," she lets him in. "Yeah, it's been one of those mornings."

"You didn't kill anyone, did you?"

"No, but if you don't help me, I am going to have a body that I'll need help getting rid of."

"Fair enough."

She leads him to the back room where Ian has thankfully stayed asleep. "Ian's an old friend." She scrubs her hand across her forehead. "And we can't send him to a hospital."

"Why not?"

"He was shot by a member of the Verrat."

Monroe looks down at him. "Are you serious? Verrat? Here?!"

She nods. "It's hard to believe, I know."

"So what do you need me to do?"

"If you're not too squeamish, I need you to help me get the bullet out. It's not far in but I need to clean the wound soon otherwise he could get blood poisoning or gangrene."

He rolls up his sleeves and asks what needs to be done first. She's got no right to ask him to help her with this and he's got no reason to do it. And yet here he is, helping her sanitize her tools to pull a bullet out of a complete stranger without an unreasonable amount of questions.

Monroe settles next to her, tools ready as she pulls her hair up and out of her face. Rose catches a glimpse of him grimacing when she takes the scalpel from him to slice the edge of the wound a little wider, and smirks.

"What?" He asks.

"It's still weird...you're a Blutbad...who doesn't like the sight or idea of blood. It still blows my mind a little."

"So how do you know him?" He wonders, changing the subject. "If he's gotten mixed up with the Verrat?"

"He was a friend of my brother's; we've known each other for a long time. Through my 'rough patch.'" She tests the other edge of the wound; blood flow has slackened to a trickle. "Hand me the pliers?" She looks up at him as he hands them over. "He lived in Amsterdam for a while when I lived in Den Haag."

"Do I even want to know what happened?"

She shrugs. "The same thing that always happens." She pulls the bullet out, and drops it onto a collection plate with a loud, satisfied clang. "We both got really into our work and fell apart."

Monroe nods in a familiar sort of way.

Rose covers the wound with gauze and tapes Ian up. "I don't know why I told that."

"Misery loves company, doesn't it?" He grins, clearly far from miserable-at least in this moment. But she can see in the way he smiles, the way he holds his hands steady, the way he saw the addict past right away, the way it's marked him. Shame doesn't always wash away in time; it clings and poisons and festers-if you let it, she's learned. And he hides it almost as well as he does. Though, for what exactly he's ashamed of, she's not sure yet. But it must have been terrible. And she wonders if he thinks the same thing of her; he has to.

She leads him over to the other side of the room, to let Ian rest a little more.

"He's not just an old friend is he?" He asks. "There's gotta be more."

"He's Laufer. Has been for a long while. He's pretty high up too."

"I still don't get why he's here. All that stuff is old country, you know."

She scrubs her fingers over her lower lip. "I'm not so sure anymore." She debates for a moment about whether or not to tell him about the mysterious phone call from 'Portland.'

He grimaces. "I'm going to make a suggestion that you're not going to like...ready?"

She nods.

"We should call Nick. See if there's anything he can do."

Nope. Instead she hems, "I might have used up my Nick favors for the week."

He pulls out his phone. "Fine, I'll call him. I think Ian might be waking up."

Just about he's about to leave, she places a hand on his arm. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he shrugs.

"No, really. You didn't have to do this for me."

He smiles. "That's what friends are for." He insists. "Besides no one's an island."

She lets him leave and goes to Ian who's groggily trying to get up. "Oh no...no, no." She pushes him back down. "You need to stay horizontal a little while longer. I shot some serious pain killers into you."

Ian turns. "Who's that?"

"He's...a friend. One who helped me dig that slug out of your side."

"One of us?" he wonders.

"Close enough," she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Blutbad. But not affiliated as far as I can tell."

Ian's eyes go wide. "Have you lost your bloody mind, Rosie?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. I did just bury my brother three weeks ago."

"Does he know who you work for?"

"Nope. Nobody does and I'm keeping it that way."

"Well this is a fine pickle."

"And it's about to get worse." She retorts. "Just you wait."

He closes his eyes a moment. "How? How can this possibly get worse?"

She checks to be sure Monroe is still on the phone. "Portland called. While you were asleep."

Ian grabs at his phone and starts flicking through all the missed calls. "You didn't answer, did you?"

"No, of course not. I though it might be something to do with..."

He redials, nodding. "Inez? It's Ian. I was...delayed. I can't meet you. But I can send someone."

'No' she mouths to him.

"She's a Calvert, a Fuschbau, and she can get whatever message you have for me. I trust her one hundred percent."

'You owe me big time.' She mouths at him.

* * *

><p>Nick showing up goes about as well as Rose had hoped. He pulls his gun, but it never actually goes off, which is a serious plus. With a mini history lesson, Nick agrees to help as much as he able to with the Hundijager but doesn't want to know the extend that they're breaking—his word, not Ian or Rose's— the law. So, when he regains his balance and sense, she packs Ian off with Monroe to find a new shirt (at least, he can't go through an airport with a blossom of a bloodstain on the front; TSA would have a field day) and she goes to pick up his new passport and to meet this Inez.<p>

She follows Ian's directions down to Davis and 2nd, on the edge of Chinatown. While during the day the area was perfectly fine, at night it wasn't a place many tourists tended to wander.

Feeling stupid, she plants herself against the nearest wall, hardening her expression against the night and the hooded figures that walked past. Perception was half the battle, she learned over the years. Give them a few details and let them draw their own conclusions. Let them see what they want to see.

"Calvert..." A low voice comes out of nowhere.

Glancing around, Rosalee pushes herself off the wall. "Here."

She was like a doll; her nose just barely reaches Rose's shoulder. In the pool of streetlight, Rose could see her skin is a honey gold and her cascading curls fight valiantly against their restrains. Inez narrowed her eyes and woges into her Rißfleisch face under her hood. The stripes across her cheeks disappear and re-appear in the shadows as she moves. "How do I know Ian's still alive?" Rosealee can't guess her age; at one angle she looks to be no more than fifteen. And it breaks her heart to think that the Laufer was recruiting someone so young. Then again, Ian had been that young. And so had she, once.

Rose rolls her eyes. "Trust me or don't, but I have places to be."

Inez glances once more at her before pulling out a slim manila envelope from her messenger bag. "Its for Ian. Only." She stresses, her voice more growl than anything.

"Yeah, I figured that. Any other messages you need me to pass along?"

Inez motions for her to come closer. "Tell him, we're keeping an eyes out for the Pauper."

"Fine. Will do." She sticks the envelope in her jacket to keep the drizzle off. When she looks up, Inez had already back into the shadows and was gone. Rose rolls her eyes at the melodrama and heads to the camera shop; Ian's passport has to be done by now.

Everyone's squirrely tonight, afraid to meet one another's eye. There has to be a full moon, she decides as she looks through the passport. She smiles and asks what's the charge. Reggie insists on taking nothing, as an 'I'm sorry for your brother'. Everything seems to be in order until she finds a business card with the words: "I'm sorry. I had no choice. He is an agent of the Verrat" written on it.

She sticks the passport in the envelope and gives him one last smile, hoping he wouldn't pay for tipping her off and heads back to the shop.

Rose got used to living with certain amount of fear, fear of being caught out in a lie, of letting something slip. It became a part of her day, like pulling on her shoes or drinking coffee. Fear was healthy, Alexander taught her. _Fear keeps you on your toes; fear keeps you alive._ Fear became a background noise, a constant and a lifestyle. It has its peaks and valleys and its oddly reassuring to feel it rise up her spine now. She's being followed, she's sure of it.

She pulls out her phone and dials Monroe's number. "I'm being watched." She mutters before he can say a word. "You have to take Ian somewhere safe. And find another way to get him out of here. I've got a Hundjäger on my tail."

"But where-"

She hangs up and keeps right on walking, sure her shadow is right behind her the whole way back.

Once she's through the door, she goes directly to the counter and throws both envelopes under the till and reaches for the box cutters she's left out since the last time. She tries to make herself look busy as the bell above the door rings out. She keeps her face calm and composed, despite the fact that it was drilled into her head that Agents of the Council do not engage with Agents of the Verrat unless there are no other options.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I was told I could get some here." He's in his late forties to fifties if she had to guess by the weathering of his face. But his voice is clipped and breaks in odd places; the accent's too practiced to be real. The stink of Hundjäger oozes through the door.

"We're actually closed," she replies in an even tone. "I just forgot to flip the sign." Under the counter, she grips box cutters.

He smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. "You should really lock the door. Never know who's going to pop through the door."

"No, I guess not. But if you come back tomorrow, I'll be happy to help."

He pulls out a gun instead and her stomach drops to her knees. "Where is he?" He growls in German.

"Not here." She replies, also in German. She could turn on the tears and play it dumb but it would only prolong the game. And she realizes that she's so goddamned tired of it.

And of course, her phone starts ringing again. Monroe. She can tell by the ringtone.

He smiles gently and indicates that she should answer it. "You have to go now." She says before he can get a word in.

"What?! Why? Rosal-"

He takes the phone from her. "Done?"

"By all means." She offers him a sarcastic half-curtsey.

He plucks it out of her fingers and demands Ian delivered to him in the next fifteen minutes, or else. He clicks off the phone and hands it to her, as if he was only asking the time. Her fingers flex on the box cutters as he takes a step closer, but the gun is too close, he's too focused. "It's refreshing to find someone who speaks so fluently," he starts in German. "Where are you from?"

"Here and there."

He waves his gun back and forth, contemplating her answer. "Laufer or just caught up with the wrong man? Hard to tell."

Silence is always best and so she keeps it up through his monologue, trying to find anything she might be able to use against him; she doesn't fancy getting shot again. And this time he's at a much closer range.

"You look familiar," he muses. "Are you sure we haven't met before?"

"I think I would remember," she replies. "I don't make a point of familiarizing myself with Hundjäger."

He barks with laughter and goes on. "Your German sounds a bit...Dutch. Tell me, have you spent much time in The Netherlands?"

"What's it matter to you? Either, they show up in fifteen minutes and you kill us all or they don't and you kill me anyway."

"Oh, I have a feeling, they'll show up." He checks his watch and frowns. "Maybe not. They only have five minutes. Perhaps, they are not so fond of you."

If he thinks that'll break her, he really must not know how to read people at all. She's built a career out of people not being fond of her. She tries to stand on her tiptoes to peek out of the window, when she turns back to him; the smile has disappeared from his face entirely. "Your partner...is the Pflichttreue..." The recognition is all too real in his voice, and its like ice down her spine.

She grips the box cutters even harder.

"Your partner, he survived that attack?"

A thousand curses run through her mind. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It is you." He smiles triumphantly, as if she were a long lost friend he'd been looking for. "I heard you took took down Louis Sheera, dismantled his whole operation..." He replies in awe. "Brava, _mein_ _Shatz_, brava."

Perhaps it's Alexander's nickname for her on his lips but she brings up the boxcutters, fingers clenching and white knuckled on the handle. "You do realize that you're not walking out of this city alive now, don't you?" At least she's not going down unarmed.

He laughs. "Well, time's up." He straightens his gun arm toward her and pulls back the hammer.

Nick bursts through the door, claiming he's got Ian. The double-crossing fucker. And then Monroe.

"Where is he?" The Hundjäger growls. "Where is the Laufer scum?" He turns to her. "You, vixen? What have you done?"

She just shrugs. "I told you," she says in German. "He's not here."

The Hundjäger steps closer but suddenly comes crashing toward her; the gun goes off and she barely has time to hit the ground when the jars to her left shatter. There's a moment of unbearable silence before she lifts her head to see Monroe almost face to face with her. "Are you okay?" They both demand and she can't help the stupid smile of relief that crosses her face when he smiles.

He helps her to her feet, as Nick keeps his gun on the Hundjäger, who's shouting about order and chaos and words that don't quite reach her ears.

"Ian!" Nick calls out. "Ian, don't do this! Put the gun down!"

"I'm sorry, Detective," Ian replies, pointing the Hundjäger's. "But this is the only way to keep your friends safe."

Monroe steps between her and the Hundjäger. Ian points Waltz's gun in his un-slinged hand (she knew that thing would come in handy) at the Verrat tattoo on his upturned hand. Ian glances only at her, searching.

They both know what needs to be done, despite Nick's protests. In the world they come from, they are not graced with such options, such choices. There is usually only one, and it's usually bloody. Rose shakes her head at Ian; . Still, she closes her eyes as the gun goes off and the Hundjäger sputters out one last breath.

Somehow, in all that, she focuses only on Monroe's hand on her elbow, the small patch of warmth in the sudden chill of the shop as the metallic smell of gunpowder floats through the air.

* * *

><p>She puts Ian in her car, handing him the envelope and tells him to give her a minute. She catches Monroe before he goes back in.<p>

"You okay" he asks her before she can say anything.

"I'm fine...Are you ...okay?"

"Strangely enough...yeah."

She pauses; everything in the last twelve hours speeds across vision a second time. And it happens so fast. "I just wanted to wanted to say thank you, again. If it hadn't been for you, we'd probably both be dead."

He shrugs. "Couldn't let that happen. You're part of the team now."

"Moving dead bodies and spiriting fugitives away in the dead of night." She smiles. "We should make jackets."

"Now that you say it out loud..." he smiles even bigger and she can't help but match him.

"I should go." She gestures back at the car. "There's a flight to Heathrow he should be able to make. If we step on it."

"Tell him good luck for me."

And while every instinct she tells her this is a bad idea, all of it— said 'here's a situation that you _should_ be afraid of. And you should not walk back to Den Haag, you should run'— she feels it receding instead. In its place, grows something much more dangerous: attachment. Not even just to these two idiots who valiantly and thoughtlessly threw in their lot together for the common good that wasn't going to end well for anyone, but to _her_ shop (as she thinks of it suddenly and possessively now), and to the people who came and went, who welcomed her back. "I...will." She climbs back in the car with Ian and takes off on five in the direction of the airport.

"Interesting group of friends you have there, Rosie." Ian sighs, leaning thought the headrest.

"Very. If you told me a month ago, I would have thought you were insane."

"I still think you're mad for trusting them."

"Well, I don't have a ton of options here, Ian. I've got to work with what I've got."

"Really, though, why are you back?  
>She glares at him for a moment before turning her attention back to the road. "Freddy's dead. Someone has to take his place."<p>

"That's not all."

She sighs. "I'm seeing the men who murdered my brother tomorrow. I need to be sure they weren't put up to it. Paid off, or made it look like robbery gone bad."

"You need to know or De Groot needs to know?"

"Both."

"And what will you do in the mean time? Play shopkeeper? Assist the Grimm?" He spits the last part.

"I'll do what I have to do. I was an Apothecary for a while, if you remember. My parents trained me too, it wasn't just Freddy." She gestures to Portland in their rearview mirror. "I'm here to get information and that's it."

Ian says nothing for a moment.

"And then it's back to my life, back to Den Haag," She sighs and glances over at him. "Inez wanted me to tell you that they're watching for the Pauper."

He nods. "I worry about you, you know."

"I worry about you too, especially after you show up on my doorstep bleeding." She pulls up to the departure's curb, and she helps him out. She hugs him, careful of his arm. Before they let go, Ian cups the back of her neck. "Take care, love." He mutters like a secret.

"You, too." She presses a kiss to his cheek, infusing all her affection in this one concentrated spot for him to take along. "No more bullets."

"No more bullets," he promises as she pulls away.

She leans against the side of the car until he disappears through the doors and she can't see him anymore.

* * *

><p>Rose keeps her calm as their feet echo on the linoleum. Nick is quiet beside her, only speaking up to point the way toward the visiting cell. He hasn't asked about Ian and probably won't. Its best for him to know as little as possible. Besides, she'll be gone soon anyway.<p>

The guard slams the door behind them, Nick says a few words to him and the guard disappears.

Joshua leans back as far as the shackles around his ankles will allow but he doesn't turn to look at his visitors.

"I'm sure you remember me." Rose sits opposite him at the table.

He nods silently, eyes never leaving where their folded hands lie between them.

"You killed my brother and I want to know why."

He shrugs.

"That's not a good enough answer. Why did you kill him?"

"I think you better answer her," Nick chimes in. "She's the one who dropped you."

Joshua finally looks up at her. "Clint did it. He's the one who shot him-your brother. I told him not to."

"Why though?"

He shrugs again.. His pale face sticks out against the orange jumpsuit. His hands, still in their shackles, shake just a touch. "We thought it'd be easy. Go in, grab the stuff. He was the only one there. And then he attacked Clint, so...you know. He defended himself."

"Where is Clint?"

"He's sick." Joshua says, emphasizing the 'sick' part. "Caught the flu real bad."

"I'll bet he did." Rose replies. "I had the flu once too.

His eyes widen just a touch. "Never would have thought so, Traitor."

"What did you call me, Murder?"

Nick's already up from leaning against the door, walking toward them. She holds up a hand.

"No, see, I was convicted of theft, assault with a deadly weapon, evading arrest and an _accessory_ to murder." He grins. "You used a _Grimm _to find me. Of all things, a freaking Grimm. That's cheating."

"Trust me." She leans in closer and bares her teeth for him. "He wanted to find you. And if I'd gotten to you first, he would have. In pieces. You better be thanking him that he didn't turn me loose." Finally, he leans back in the chair at the sight of her. "You won't be so lucky next time." She gets up and walks to the door.

Clint's handcuffs clink like a wind chime in a thunderstorm; he shakes just as badly as she had four days into her detox. Everything had been too bright, too loud, she remembered vividly, the smell of the shop made her nauseous for days.

"Why'd you kill my brother?" She asks quietly.

He looks up at her, eyes dark in his unnaturally pale face, lips almost blue and skin so sallow it's practically translucent. His mouth flaps but sets into a line again.

"Why did you do it"

"I...I didn't mean to...I just..." his shoulders drop and he starts to cry. " It-I didn't mean to."

Rosalee watches him weep without saying a word. She was this pale once too; skin gone yellow and hair ratty with snarls. The days she spent in the holding cells seemed to stretch on and on and on as the withdrawls hit her. There was no one to hold her hand, to walk her through the alternating hot flashes and cold spells. She lay there on that cardboard mattress and swore to whatever gods were listening that she'd stop this time for sure.

He meets her eye finally. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I just-"

"Nobody put you up to it?"

He looks bewildered for a moment. "No...no, we knew that he had the stuff and-"

She holds her hand up and gets up. Just as she's about to walk past him she stops and says: "I was like this once too. Be better."

She gets to Nick and lays a hand on the barred door. "Let's go. We're done here."

* * *

><p>As much as I would love to promise to have the next section up in the next two weeks, I can't. I've got a huge project in the first two weeks of February and I can't promise I'm going to have a lot of time. I've already started but it might be a bit of a wait for the last installment of this arc.<p>

Also, would anyone like to know what songs I listen to while I write these arcs? Not that you need to know but if anyone is curious let me know. I'll make a note at the start of the chapters.


	3. I shan't have lied

Holy crap guys I am so sorry about the long wait. I could go into detail about my term and it's craziness but I won't. Here it is the last one-shot in this particular arc. I'm already working on the new one!

So, some of the songs I was listening to while writing this incase you were wondering: "Hello My Old Heart"- The Oh Hellos (THIS IS AN AMAZING SONG OMG) "Bad Blood"-Bastille

Dislcaimer: I own nothing at all

* * *

><p>"<strong>I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master  though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster – " Elizabeth Bishop "One Art"**

* * *

><p>The little blue house on North Mohawk street hasn't changed at all. The yard is still wild and the vines have crept farther up the sides of the house. The rusting pick-up in the driveway hasn't moved an inch in three-almost four years. Even in broad daylight, it holds an air of night and secrets and all the deeds she's ashamed to admit to out loud. It's where it all started with a blonde mistake with fast hands, sharp smirk who promised her the best night of her life.<p>

No one will be up, except for those sober enough to hold onto their jobs. Rose herself, slept through many boss' last good graces on the stained green couch in the living room. The crash after the high brought no dreams and she kept chasing after the deep black void; anything to drown out her mother's crying and DeEtta's righteous indignation.

But she knocks anyway. There's only silence. So, she knocks again.

Travis' familiar face appears; she'd recognize that lazy, narcissistic smile anywhere. Fucker. "Rosie?" he smiles sleepily at her and leans against he door frame. "Have fun? Back for more?"

"No," she growls. "No, I'm not. Clint Vickers. Joshua Hall. Know 'em?"

He nods, standing straighter. "They're doing time."

"Fifteen each." She replies. "I put them there."

Travis steps back.

"It's what happens when you kill members of my family."

"What'd ya what? Who'd they kill?"

She grabs him by his shirt collar. "Don't play stupid with me," she growls. "How many poker games did I take you for everything you had while I was high as a kite? I smell out liars for a living."

Travis puts up both his hands in surrender. "I'm not a liar. I had nothing to do with it. I don't want cops to come sniffin' around? You know better than that! You remember!" He was always careful, it's true. For all the stupid things they did back in the day, they tried to keep a low profile. It wasn't until after her appetite had grown that she drifted away from Travis, running with crowds who did not hold themselves to any rules.

Of course she remembered, some days it was all she could see. And she regretted taking that first inhale just to impress him, to see that lazy smile. "You better keep it that way. There's a Grimm on the police force. One toe out of line—"

He goes paler than usual. "The fuck are you doing, Rosalee?"

"What I have to. If I hear that you've been lying to me, there's going to be hell to pay."

She shoves him back and turns to make her way back to her car, parked two blocks away and one block up, just in case. She slams the door and locks it. She grips the steering wheel, trying to focus her adrenaline elsewhere. It'd be easier to blame someone, to extract revenge, to make someone else suffer as she has. An accident; a mistake means she has nowhere else to go. There are no more leads to follow up on, no one to chase down. You can't squeeze blood from a stone, she's learned over the years.

She grabs her phone and dials De Groot. "_Guten Abend_, Frau Calvert; I expected a check in weeks ago."

"I'm sorry, I was following down leads. You said you wanted me to be 'quite sure.' "

"I did. So what are you quite sure about?"

"It was an accident. There's no evidence of foul play; just sheer stupidity."

He's quiet a moment. "You will still need to file a report in writing, of course." He says. "Have you found a replacement?"

She bites her lower lip before answering. "...No...I haven't. I- I wanted to request for some time off. Officially."

"I see. Can we rely on you to be the Contact for the time being?"

"Yes, of course. I just need some...quiet."

"I propose that you take leave until the Sheera trial. A tentative date has been set for October, but we'll see if we can't move it up some. When you return for the trial, we will discuss your choices and proceed from there."

"That sounds fair."

"Please let us know if there is anything you need, Frau Calvert. Your father would have been very proud of the work you've done for us. We'd like to help you in any way we can."

Rose bids him _Auf Wiedersehen*_ and _danke*_, his last sentiment settling around her shoulders like a shawl, weighing her down. The only thing is, she's not sure if he would be proud. Then again, she hadn't given him much reason to be proud while he was alive.

* * *

><p>*good-bye<p>

*thank you

* * *

><p>Her phone rings out in the dark, shattering the quiet. Her fingers fumble over it a few times before she turns off the alarm. It's too early and she might have had a bit too much wine last night finishing her report to De Groot.<p>

But her alarm won't turn off no matter how many times she flicks at the screen. Swearing in Dutch (something she learned within a week of arriving in Den Haag) and finally looking at it, "_Ja_? _Was wollen Sie? Es ist fünf!?*_" She whines.

"_Ich bedauere wirklich*_...but we've got a problem."

"Is the problem that you called before six and I haven't had any coffee yet?" She burrows back down under her new yellow coverlet and jersey sheets again. "Because that's the main problem I'm sensing here."

"It's Juliette—"

"Did Nick finally tell her?"

"Well...he tried." Monroe hems. "She's in a coma."

She sits up, and then winces at her own stupidity as her temples throb. "What? How?"

"We were sort of hoping that you could help with that."

"Help how? I'm not a doctor. I told you I only made it a semester in med school before I dropped out." It'd slipped out three weeks ago when he popped by the shop, as was the norm now, to bring her coffee or just to chat or even help out now and then.

"Well, Adalind had something to do with it."

Rose swore it in Dutch again. "I told Nick not to mess with witches! You told Nick not to mess with witches! And what does he do? Messes with witches! How did she do it?!"

He heaves a sigh. "Cat scratch."

"Ooh...that's good. That's brilliant. It'll keep the doctors busy running useless test for ages. Can you get the cat?"

"Already done."

"Meet me at the shop in half an hour. You both owe me coffee. Several times over."

"I'm walking to the coffee place now."

"I need two shots at this hour, by the way."

* * *

><p>*What do you want? It's five!<p>

*I'm really sorry...

* * *

><p>Adalind may be brilliant but it's on the cruel side, Rose notes when she finally sees the cat curled up against the door in agony. It's paws flex uncontrollably and claw against the plastic crate. Its back arches almost to the point of snapping in two. She cups her hand over her mouth, considering from all angles<p>

Monroe peeks in as well. "What's wrong with it?"

"_Alles*_?" She hazards a guess. "We'll have to test the cat's claws before I can even guess what she did. And then we'll have to do some reverse engineering."

He looks back at her. "How?"

She grabs at a book of recipes and flips through to one that she watched her brother make for her when she was going through detox "We're gonna knock it out first. Or at least calm it down." She pulls down a bowl and a few ingredients. "Don't worry." She smiles and pats him on the shoulder as she passes. "I won't let the crazy kitty get you."

Monroe smiles and follows after her, grabbing the ingredients she needs off the high shelves. She tries hard to keep her smile to herself; she doesn't need to encourage him anymore.

He finds every excuse to be at the shop, and by now she's heard them all: in the neighborhood, favorite coffee place is nearby. For the first week or two, she rolled her eyes and made shooing motions every time she had customers. She called him a distraction and clumsy (he really isn't, in fact, he is an odd sort of graceful, especially his hands) but with a smile. But on days like this, especially with Nick's involvement, she doesn't mind, he's smart and helpful and always has a terribly perfect clock joke. They slip in and out of German, sometimes mashing up the words, and she forgets where they are, if only for a short while. But every so often she catches him looking at her like a puzzle, he can't quite find all the pieces to.

Rose starts on the calming potion for the cat; he's there to hand her whatever she needs next, almost as if he can read her mind. There's little need to lie to him, except for the occasional fib to cover a detail or a date or a name. He knows, suspects at least, that something's off. There are parts and pieces missing from her story; she can see him trying to pinpoint it exactly but she's interwoven them so well, it would take years to unravel.

When the potion's ready and they slip it under the cover on the cat's cage, Rosalee starts the testing solution. "So what did Nick do to piss her off?" She asks. "Besides, you know, taking her powers. What started them off at each other's throats?"

Monroe shrugs. "She tried to kill his aunt. And then, of course, she messed around with Hank."

She glances up. "Remind me why again?"

He turns and fixes her with a steely glare. "His aunt was Marie Kessler. I don't think she needed a reason."

Of course, he's related to the Kesslers, she reasons. Of all the Grimms in all the world to take on her brother's murder... "Besides that. Why was she messing with Hank?"

"To get to Nick, she wanted something from him."

"It seems sort of odd...don't you think? Hexenbiests don't usually do...what they do without some kind of provocation. And they don't usually go after Grimms." Or maybe it was just the ones she knew.

"I don't know about you but I'd really rather not try to get into a Hexenbiest's mindset." He just shakes his head at her and dons the oven mitts she dug out of storage. "Are you sure about this?"

"Don't you trust me?" She wonders.

Monroe grimaces again and reaches in. All the fight has gone out of the creature and it lies boneless between his hands. Still, he holds it as far from him as possible as he brings it over. "What are we doing again?"

"If the solution turns yellow then it'll cut down on the amount of research we have to do, because everything that it could be will literally be in one book." She guides the cat's front paws into the mixture. "And if it's green...I might still be able to help her; though, it's going to be a little trickier than previously planned."

The solution turns a shocking blue. "And blue? Good or bad?"

Rose lifts the cat a little. "_Scheiße*_...! " She hisses. "Goddamn Hexenbiests..." And goes straight to her bookshelf.

"What?! What is it?" Monroe holds the cat aloft, spinning around trying to see what she sees. "Is it the cat?!"

"Sorry! Just put the cat back in his cage and come help me." She pulls down all her books on memory loss and hands them to Monroe when he appears next to her.

"So... what's up?"  
>"Nothing good."<p>

"Yeah, I can see that."

She just shrugs and hops down off her ladder and they settle in the nook to start looking. They pour through a dozen books before Rose finds a lesser-known but nasty little spell in the margins of one of the oldest books in her collections.

"This is so not good." She mutters going over the effects. "This is so not good at all."

"What's it doing?"

She looks up. "The spell Adalind used isn't meant for a live host. It's frying the cat's nervous system; it's killing it..."

He looks horrified. "And Juliette?"

"Oh it's doing that to her too, except it's attacking her memories specifically."

"So, now we know what it is, we can fix her."

"Well," She bites her lower lip, grabbing another and starting with the table of contents. "We'll have to see after we've figured out how to stop the memory loss. One thing at a time." _Like Dad used to say. _ "We need to be looking for something that'll counteract the _Scutellaria lateriflora_."

"So something that's scouring? Like St. John's Wort?" He guesses.

She smiles. "You've been spending waaay too much time with me."

He smiles too, but says nothing.

Even with the emergency status, Rose can't help but relax a little amid the books, passed down from generation to generation; her inheritance smelling like mold, old dust and age. Sometimes, when it's late and she can't seem to focus or sleep, she lays her head cheek down, nose in the spine of the books and inhales deeply. It never fails to send her dreaming back to her childhood, back to when DeEtta and Freddy were both there, listening to her mother reading off recipes like fairy tales. In those quiet moments between waking and sleeping, she imagines her father's hand on her back, between her skinny shoulder blades like he used to when he came home late after a hard day and would check on all of them to be sure they were breathing..

Back in the days following his death, it haunted her to no end: the phantom hand on her back. So, she ran to get lost and stay lost; she seemed to escape it for a while even. And now, she's nose deep in her father's books, in her brother's store, taking up the torch. Funny how that works.

Her stomach turns, though, at the L'espirit Ailleus and what it entails. "Hand me the green one?" She points to a huge book with a thousand sticky notes on the page edges.

"I really hope that one will work...Because I've got nothing that even remotely looks like it might help. Most of this one is about..." he grimaces. "Wesen with hairball issues..."

She flips through it until she hits a page with an ancient post-it written in her father's steady hand:_ Hexenbiest_. Rose checks over the ingredients and compares them to what's in the L'espirit Ailleus. "I think I can stop the memory loss but I'm not sure I can wake her up." She runs her fingers through her hair. "I hate Hexenbiests...they're smart and vindictive. It's a terrible combination. It's why you never trust the pretty ones."

"That's not always true." That saying about words not breaking bones...such a lie and Rose would know. She looks up from her book at him; it's like getting shot all over again; except right through the chest this time.

"Yes, it is." She reasons, grabbing the book and heading to her worktable. "Didn't your mother ever warn you about pretty Fuschbau? She really should have." Instead of cocky and all knowing, her voice comes out small and sad as she starts pulling down ingredients. "They'll take you for everything you've got. And you'd never even know."

His face falls. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, you know something's off. You've known since..." she gestures to the vague middle distance. "Since day one..."

"I figured you'd tell when you were ready. Like I said before, 'no judgment.'" And the worst part is that he means it.

"The funny thing about people is that you give them a few details and they see what they want to, maybe not exactly what's in front of them."

His face falls a little. "So, you're not really a consultant for Interpol?"

"I am, in so many words."

"You're not really an Apothecary?"

"I was trained to be one. My parents taught me too. And Freddy really was my brother."

"Then...I don't see what's different."

She leans against the side of the table and crosses her arms over her chest. "I came here as an agent of the Wesen Council, investigating my brother's death."

There's a beat of silence between them.

"And now...?" He wonders.

"What do you mean, 'And now?'"

"You said you _were_ an agent of the Wesen Council. 'Were' being past tense..."

"_Mein Gott_," she curses and rolls her eyes. "You really do pay attention, don't you? I took some time off. I'm not active duty right now."

"What did you do? For real?"

"I..."She opens her mouth and then quickly closes it.

"Come on, it's the least you can do. After you lied." But he smiles.

"How about a trade? I tell you something true if you tell me something true back? We've got a few hours to kill until Nick is off shift and the solution's gonna have a very long while to cook." Rose clicks on the Bunsen burner and sets to work.

"I'm an open book," he assures her. "What you see is what you get."

They exchange truths like trading cards all afternoon while the solution sets on her worktable. Some silly (she's still a little terrified of getting her finger caught in the toaster after Freddy told her that she'd get shocked to death if she tried to grab the bagel before it was ready), some sentimental (he still has the Bug because it was the first car he ever bought and he's going to do his damnedest to be sure it's the last). And then, he asks the big one, just as the sun starts to go down: "Have you ever killed anyone?"

"Not directly. But my work has resulted in deaths. You?"

He pauses, looking down at his hands. "Yep," he lets out in a low breath. "And I don't have the excuse you and Nick have."

"It doesn't feel like an excuse."

"I wasn't...a good person ten years ago. I didn't think things through you know?"

"I was a mess too: selfish and small. I'd like to think I'm better but..." She shrugs. "Sometimes I wonder if that's who I really am, and I just pretend really well."

"You really aren't as bad as you make yourself out to be." He says, a smile working it's way across his face. "If you were, we wouldn't be here trying to help a woman you've never met, who happens to be the girlfriend of a Grimm."

Rose realizes suddenly it's been a long time since she spent an afternoon, or two or five or ten, being this honest with someone. It's like taking a deep breath after a long swim, seeing the sun again after a long winter. Even with Ian, whom she could tell what she really did, who she'd been in the past, so much had been lies of omission, for each other's own good. "Neither are you," she replies, smiling too. "You may be big and you may be a wolf, but you are not bad. Not to me at least."

Monroe straightens, looking up at her. "So..." She knows that drawl all to well.

"So..." it's the only thing she can think to say back. She makes the mistake of glancing up from the solution only to find him smiling in _that_ way. And it's not that she hasn't thought about it...it's hard not to with the way he smiles, his kindness that unnerved her at first.

"I've been thinking—"

Her phone rings out and she flips it on to see Alexander name flashing. "_Scheiße_-_Schade,_ I have to take this."

Monroe waves it off and returns to the reading alcove while she accepts the call and steps into the front room. "_Ja_?"

"I read your report." Alexander says without preamble of any kind. "De Groot told me that you weren't coming home."

Rose presses her hand to her forehead. "I just need some time...Besides I took over my brother's...you know-everything. I can't just up and leave now!"

"There is a Grimm on the police force, _Schatz_! You're going to get yourself killed! It's only a matter of time before he shows his true colors!"

"Ian got to you, didn't he?"

"I may have spoken with a certain member of the Laufer as he passed through. He's worried too."

She has to swallow down her anger. "De Groot seems to trust my judgment. So did you once."

"Death undoes us, _Schatz_. You're no exception. You're not thinking clearly."

"My thinking was clear enough to pull a bullet out of his side and get him out of the country," she growls right back.

Alexander heaves a deep sigh. "So you're staying."

"I'll be back for the trial, whenever that is."

"You'll call me if you have any trouble?"

"I will," she promises with no intent to follow through on it.

"_Auf Wiedersehen_, then _Schatz._"

"_Auf Wiedersehen..._" She clicks off the call and leans against the door for a moment before turning back to the task at hand.

* * *

><p>*Everything?<p>

*shit

*shit-sorry,

* * *

><p>The house is a mess; pieces of shattered chairs and coffee tables are everywhere. Glass crunches under their feet and the smell of sweat and blood lingers in the air.<p>

"_Mein Gott*_..." she mutters.

"Well," Monroe whispers. "Now we know why he won't answer."

She reaches out to grip his wrist, to keep him from taking another step. "Something's not right."

Nick appears, face bloody and bruised. "Hey—what are you guys doing here?"

"We tried to call," Monroe starts. "But it looks like you've been...busy."

"Kimura paid me a surprise visit and—" But he doesn't get the rest out. A dark shape flies out of the corner of the room, tackling Monroe to the ground.

As soon as the figure produces a knife big enough to sever a jugular, Rose woges without thinking and ducks under Nick's outstretched arm. She hits the figure all in black square in the torso and they topple over each other a few times. Rose grabs for the knife hand and slams it against the floor until it falls from the woman's fingers. She hisses in the woman's face; she wasn't there to help her brother but she's going to be damned if someone tries to take her friends from her.

The woman growls right back, wiggling one arm free and uppercuts her. Rose sees a burst of sudden indoor stars, almost loses her grip on the grip on the woman's willowy arms. Vaguely the words: "ROSEALEE!" and "My mother..." and "Not dead" are bandied about but she's more focused on the woman beneath her who's scrambling for a handhold. She reaches back to give the woman in black a taste of her own medicine when a pair of huge hands hauls her off and set her on her feet once more. She's not even sure of whom it is until she hears Monroe say to her: "Hey there, Champ. Let's, you know, not kill Nick's mom."

Rose bristles once more in the direction of the human shape on the ground before retracting. Monroe frowns, already reaching to wipe the blood out of the corner of her lip. She winces at the sudden sting but more so at not seeing the hit coming. "I'm fine." She murmurs to him, all the while glaring at the woman in black.

"...Fuschbau..." The shape complains as Nick helps her up. "Are you serious Nicky?"

"They're my friends." He steps between her and them. "This is Rosalee and Monroe, friends of mine. Guys, this is my mom, Kelly."

"So clearly you two haven't done any sort of catching up, then?" Monroe asks.

"Been a little busy," Nick insists.

"Listen, we only stopped by because we think we can help Juliette. And we tried calling—"

Nick turns, eyes wild. "What?! How?" While the woman beside him asks: "Juliette? Who's Juliette?"

Monroe nudges Rose, who's rubbing her jaw and testing for loose teeth. "The spell Adalind put on her is eating away at her memory. I've got something setting up at the shop. But it won't be ready until the tomorrow."

"And then she'll wake up?  
>Rose grimaces. "I'm still working on that part but we should stop the memory loss first."<p>

"You're going to trust this...vixen—" The woman snorts. Monroe tries to push past Nick at that. "—And her Blutbad boyfriend?"

"Not the first time I've been called that," Rose assures Monroe quietly. "Besides...it's a little true." Neither of them address the second comment.

"They're my friends." Nick declares again, louder. "And they've saved me...more times than I can count."

Kelly glares at both of them, eyes lingering on Rose a moment or two longer. That same piercing stare Nick gave her the first time they met sends shivers down Rose's spine. "You sure about that?"

Nick glares at his mother before turning to the pair of them. "Thanks guys. I really appreciate it. But maybe..." he nods towards the door.

They take his advice and head to the door. "Maybe we'll give you some space..."

"Just while my mom's here," he promises. "But I'll meet you at the hospital tomorrow? What time?"

Rosalee checks her watch. "Four. It'll be done at four and we only have a small window to time while the solution is good."

"How small is small?"

Monroe holds his thumb and forefinger up an inch apart. "Tiny, man. Like forty-five minutes. We've got to be fast."

"I will call you when I'm ten minutes out. I promise. Until then, take Sugar Ray, here," he nods at Rosealee. "...home and get something on her jaw for the swelling."

* * *

><p>*My God<p>

* * *

><p>As accustomed as Rose'd become to Nick, his mother is the monster from her childhood stories. There is no pity in her dark eyes and the scars around her face speak more of the death she dealt than any tragedy. And Rose is more grateful than she'd like to admit when Monroe steps between them, hand on the small of her back. Now, she can go back to the shop, far far from this nightmare in the shape of a woman and keep looking to find something to lift Juliette out of the coma.<p>

"Can you two give my mom a ride back?" Nick asks, phone in hand. "Everyone's going to be cool?" He looks directly at Rose for this.

"Yeah," Monroe answers for the both of them. "If everyone's okay with it."

"I am," Kelly replies, though it come out deep and guttural.

"I'll be fine if everyone keeps their knives to themselves." Rose insists, running her fingers over the purple and red blossom on her chin.

Of course no one pulls any knives of any kind during the drive back. Though the uneasy silence is a little oppressive.

"So, how do you like Portland?" Monroe starts.

Beside him, Rose closes her eyes and squeezes the bridge of her nose.

"It's a very ...strange city, I suppose."

"I don't know if you've done much sightseeing but-"

"My son...he trusts you. Both of you."

Rose turns back to find the most puzzled expression on Kelly's face.

"Yeah, I trust him too."

Kelly turns to her. "And you?"

Rose nods. "I trust him. He keeps us safe and we keep him safe."

That seems to satisfy her and she leans back against the seat for the rest of the ride. And it's the longest she and Monroe have spent not talking. Rose breathes out a sigh of relief when they turn the corner to Nick's house. She climbs out and lets Kelly pull herself through the car door.

Kelly marches straight toward the porch and for a moment, Rose thinks that this must be it. But Kelly turns just before she gets to the steps. "This..." she gestures to them. "Doesn't make an ounce of sense to me."

_No shit, Sherlock_, Rose wants to spit, but keeps her mouth shut. No reason to break the whole no knives agreement as they'd been doing so well.

Beside her, Monroe shrugs as well. "It really doesn't to us either. But so far it's worked."

Kelly regards both of them solemnly.. "You do realize the danger you're putting yourselves in, standing with my son. Not just other Grimms, but your own kind...the Royals..."

Rose finds her voice before Monroe does. "He's trying to do the right thing. And he's doing it by himself. It's the least we can do."

For a moment, Kelly's hard expression crumbles; stripped of her Grimm persona, her hard scars and frown-set mouth, Kelly seems more familiar. In that same window of time, Rose sees her own mother, sad and alone. Or at least it was how she always imagined how her mother must have looked at her father's funeral.

And then suddenly, the walls are back up. "Thank you. Both of you."

"Anytime." Monroe insists.

"For today. And helping my son...when I couldn't be there. Keep an eye on him?"

"We try." He promises.

Kelly gives one last curt nod and turns up the steps and disappears into the house.

Without a word, they get back in the car. Once they shut the doors, they sit in silence for a moment. And then the giggles start; she tries to cover them up but can't. He takes one look at her and cracks up as well. For a good five minutes, they're paralyzed by relief that they survived not only a spell addled cat but a homicidal Grimm besides Nick.

"We should go." She giggles. "Before Kelly looks out the window and thinks we're plotting against her."

"And leaps through the windshield to chop our heads off?" he wonders and it sets them both off again.

"So..." Monroe sighs when it finally subsides and he starts up the car.

"So...?" Rose wonders right back.

"Do you want to go out sometime?"

She stares straight ahead for a second—the giggles now completely gone. She turns. "Yeah," she says, smiling. "Yeah, I do."

* * *

><p>So I found a new German translator. Better? I hope. German is not one of the languages I ever learned and I have no background in it and I'm so sorry<p>

R&R?


	4. what kindness really is

WHOOOO NEW ARC-I'm going to leave it in the same area because it's just easier and I don't want to create new story...I'm lazy.

So this one is going to a very small window of time, picking up shortly after the last arc. And I know it seems like I'm throwing in random characters...but Oh, guys do I have some plans.

In short, it was a hard term and I'm an awful human being who takes her frustrations out on fictional characters.

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all

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><p>"<strong>Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things,/ feel the future dissolve in a moment/ like salt in a weakened broth/ What you held in your hand,/ what you counted and carefully saved,/ all this must go so you know/ how desolate the landscape can be/ between the regions of kindness..." Naomi Shihab Nye, "Kindness"**

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><p>"I don't know if this is going to work," Monroe mutters to Nick as they weave through the sterile hospital halls.<p>

"Well, we've got to at least try," Nick retorts.

"But I don't see how she's going to remember me if she doesn't remember you. And she's never met Rosalee."f

"If I ever figure out how to help her, she'll have to trust me," Rose replies. "Better coming from a friend than a total stranger."

"If?" Nick turns back to her.

"I mean when." She corrects her self. "When." At least she knows what potion was used to wake Juliette up, even if they don't know the how it was done or the why of it all. She just keeps diving into her books whenever she can, looking for anything, grasping at straws until she can barely see straight.

Juliette's awake when they all trickle in, with the same smile from the picture that Rose saw once on Nick's desk. She immediately greets Monroe as if they're old friends and doesn't seem to think it's strange in the least bit. But Rose can't help but notice how Nick's shoulders slump a little at her own banal greeting to him.

"I don't think we've met," Juliette suddenly declares in Rose's direction. She glances at Monroe for confirmation. "Have...have we?"

"No, we haven't." She offers her hand to shake. "I'm Rosalee. I'm a friend of Nick and Monroe's."

"She's an apothecary," Monroe tells Juliette. "We thought she might be able to help jog your memory."

Rosalee sits on Juliette's other side. "Would you mind if I asked you a few questions? I want to gauge how intact your memory is."

"Sure... if it'll help."

"I'm going to give you three words and I'll need you to remember them because I'm going to ask you for them later: bus, Montana, purple." Juliette nods and repeats them to herself twice before looking back up at Rose.

"Ready."

Rosalee asks her what year it is, who the president is, where did she go to school, what year did she graduate. Juliette answers all of them with ease. But when she gets to Nick...

"Can you remember the first time you met Nick?"

Juliette sits up and glances over in Nick's direction. "He was there when I woke up. He said my name and...and he kissed me..." She lifts her free hand to her lip in confusion.

"Do you know Nick's last name?"

Juliette stares at her hands and then back up at Rose. "I...I don't know."

Rose smiles and pats her hands. "Don't worry. Can you repeat those words back to me?"

Juliette does with ease.

"Perfect. I'm just need to talk to Nick for a moment." She nods in Nick's direction and leads him out into the hall.

"So, can you fix it?" He demands.

"I don't know...The spell eats memory like Dementia does or Alzheimer's— though it seems without the mood destabilization."

"Is that how it works? Erasing specific events...or people?"

Rose shrugs. "All my research shows it doesn't do this. I suppose it is possible for the caster to target a specific memory, or event...Or person."

"How?"

"As far as a person is concerned, the caster would need something of yours. Skin, hair..." and then it dawns on her. "Blood..."

Nick goes white and covers his face with both hands. "I did this. I caused this." He lets his fingers slide down his cheekbones before he turns to her. "It's my fault."

Rose reaches out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder; if only her father could see her now. "You didn't kill that poor cat with the spell and you didn't poison Juliette."

"No," he murmurs. "But I gave Adalind every reason to do it. I took something from her and so she tried to take something from me."

"I wish I could tell you different."

Nick says nothing, only narrows his eyes at her.

"You gave Adalind everything on a silver platter." Rose gestures at the door.

"So, you think I should have ended it when I had the chance? Like my aunt?"

Rose shrugs. "All I know is that it's hard to hurt people who don't have anything to lose. And you showed Adalind your pressure point. You practically gift wrapped it for her." It's the world he lives in now, the one she will never entirely escape from. He'll have to learn sometime, she tells herself. "You're going to have to work on your poker face if you ever go up against a Hexenbiest again."

"Is that how you see things? He asks suddenly. "People as weaknesses? Collateral?" Nick lacks that killer edge his mother has but the hurt there is all too familiar. She's watched many a junior agents' innocence crumble into nothing on their first field job. On the one hand, she understands all to well the want to keep the ones you love ignorant. It's better for them. But too often, they're part of the damage when things blow up in your face. They're too close no matter what you tell them.

Rosalee steps back. "Only if you wear them on your sleeve."

"You be careful with him." Nick warns her, pointing at the door. "He doesn't see you as collateral."

She nods.

"He's a good guy. A little eccentric, sure but—"

"You don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"Sell me." She shakes her head. "You don't have to tell me things I already know."

* * *

><p>At first it's just dinners; once or twice a week. Rose tries hard to remind herself that he's a Blutbad and she's a Fuschbau and even if they do live in Portland in the twenty first century, she can't see it working out for the long haul, even if it is the most fun she's had in a very long time. But that voice grows hoarser and hoarser every time he shows up at her door. And she lets herself get swept up in it. They never go to the same place twice; they always seem to find something new, something better. The way they ease themselves into familiarity kind of surprises her, knowing he's the one calling, knowing what kind of wine he'd want becomes a reflex that she's not sure she ever wants to be rid of.<p>

On the first real balmy night in May, she gets her huge semi-annual shipment in. They drink beer and sort through all the boxes that are blocking the front door. She tells him she only needs help because her arm hasn't healed as well as the doctor's hoped, not that he needs more of a reason. They can't seem to go for more than three days without seeing each other now. It's terrible and she's not doing a single goddamn thing about it either.

From her perch on the front desk and her manifest book settled on her knees, she orders Monroe this way and that, pointing with giggling impunity as he rolled his eyes at her. When he begs for a break, he wants to know exactly what is wrong with her arm. So, she rolls up her sleeve, defiantly, at him to show him the jagged and still pink scars across her deltoid. She pokes at the patch of skin right below the scar. "I can't feel parts of it. The doctors hoped the nerves would recover. But it still aches when the weather's being funky." She shrugs. "So, I guess not."

Reaching out, he runs his thumb over the scar; she can only feel it in pieces and parts. Rose rolls her sleeve back down and he turns to her; the concern there is enough to break her heart. "It's fine," She assures him, settling her hand on his.

His fingers twists around her hands. "It's not.

Rose runs her thumb over his. "It is what it is. Can't undo it now."

"Guess not." He steps a little closer, voice gone down another few octaves like it usually does when it's just the two of them.

There's a click in her brain as he looms closer and closer; she knows this dance all too well. Everything goes quiet in the shop, so quiet Rose doesn't even hear the traffic from the street. She could duck her head and say 'no'; she could say she doesn't want to break his heart because that's all she's ever done. Instead, she sits up straighter because she's been waiting for it for longer than she thought.

"You are so beautiful..." He murmurs, sweetly and without guile. Despite how she could laugh and tell him that beauty is a lie, an illusion that everyone buys into, his honesty nearly undoes her. The way he runs his thumb over her cheekbone, the way he only looks her in the eye stills the thought. Instead, she stays quiet and lets herself be beautiful. At least to him.

And it shouldn't surprise her in the least when he presses his lips to hers so gently she has to crack her eyes open just to be sure it's actually happening. Gripping a fistful of shirt, she draws him in closer. As he eases his lips over hers, there's a distinctive thump in the region of her chest where her heart is, like it's forgotten how to beat properly. His hand slips from her cheek to the back of her neck and all she can think is: _Shit, shit, shit_ in time with her hammering, out of practice heart. Because she doesn't want to stop. Because it feels good and right and absolutely necessary.

When they finally part, she grips his upper arms to keep him there.

"Whoa..." he breathes finally.

"I'll say." She grins; her heart beats so loud, she's sure they can hear it all the way in Den Haag and she doesn't even care.

"You don't mind? We talked about going slow...And—"

She shakes her head silently, all the while pulling him closer. She catches him in the middle of the sentence and feels him smile against her for a moment before wrapping his arms around her.

They finish unpacking the boxes; all the while, stealing secret glances even though they're the only ones for —what feels like—miles. When they part for the night, she throws her arms around his neck unabashedly under the streetlight as they kiss again and again. It's enough to keep her giddy for the rest of the summer.

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><p>"Good news, Frau Calvert," De Groot announces happily (or as happily as he can sound) "The trial's been set for October 31st."<p>

"That's in three weeks," she counts on her fingers.

"Is that not sufficient time to book a flight?"

"It is. It just seems so...soon is all. When do you expect it to be over?"

"Perhaps its best if you buy a one way ticket. You'll be reimbursed of course. Be sure to send along your expenses."

"I will. I'll see you in three weeks."

"Contact Alexander with your arrival time. He's said he'd be willing to fetch you."

"I will. _Auf Wiedersehen*."_ She turns off her phone and stares at it for a moment. Rose always knew this day was coming, the day she'd have to go back and face that life again. She paces around the shop measuring every floorboard squeak as though she's earned them; she just never imagined that she'd have such a strong reason to come back to this place. As soon as she gets back to the front counter, the bell above the door sounds.

"Miss Rosie!" Malena shouts and barrels towards her.

Rose sets her phone on the counter to find the tiny eight-year-old racing toward her. "Hey kiddo!" she yanks back every inch of sadness. "How do you feel?"

"Good. Do you have more of the chewies? And tea? We're almost out!" Without waiting for an answer, Malena goes straight for the drawer of ginger candies Rose keeps on hand. Her parents always kept a drawerful when she and Freddy were young.

Malena's mother, Anita, pops her head in. "Oh good, you've got her. I swear the moment she got out of the car she was gone. Ran three blocks without me."

"Malena, you know you shouldn't do that!" She scolds and helps Malena to sit on the front counter next to her. "So, Malena tells me that you're in need of more tea."

Amelia sighs. "She had three attacks this month."

"Malena," Rosalee pokes her in the knee. "What are you doing scaring your mother like that?"

Malena shrugs, tearing at the piece of dried ginger pulled from the secret stash Rosalee always had on hand.

"I swear Rosalee, nothing else calms her down."

"She's still using the inhaler?"

"Of course"

"Let's try a little more coltsfoot? Just a touch?" Rose murmurs. "Maybe it'll help the inflammation a touch." She pulls down the jars for ginger, raspberry and coltsfoot.

Malena and Amelia watch carefully as Rose measures and weighs the little bag. "That should do it. I'll make a note about the coltsfoot for the next time, make sure the directions are easy. I'm going out of town in a few weeks."

"Where are you going, Miss Rosie?"

"I have to go back to Den Haag for a little while." She replies to Malena.

Amelia frowns. "But someone will be here to run on the shop?"

"I'm working on that." She smiles. "But I'll be back soon. I promise." She tells Malena's frown.

The bell above the door rings out again; there's Monroe, early as always. Amelia woges into her Fuschbau form before she's able to pull it back but Malena tilts her head to one side like a curious puppy. "You're really tall. Is it because you're a Blutbad?"

"Malena Diane!" Her mother hisses.

Monroe laughs. "And you're small because you're a Fuschbau?" He asks right back.

"Hey! Not small here!" Rose protests with a laugh.

"Don't know what I am yet!" Malena declares and grabs another bit of dried ginger "I hope I'm a Fuschbau like Mommy and Miss Rosie."

"Malena," her mother announces, worry coloring her voice. "Malena, come on, we've got a lot to do! We don't need to be in Miss Rosie's way."

Malena rolls her eyes and hops off the desk. Rose grabs a few more and helps , Malena to stuff them in her pocket. "Don't worry your mom too much, all right Kiddo?"

"Okay," Malena agrees and dashes after her mother. "Bye Miss Rosie! Have a good trip!"

He turns to her as soon as they're gone. "Trip?"

"I got a call from DeGroot about five minutes before Malena and her mother came in. I have to go back to Den Haag for a while."

"What? Why?"

"The trial is starting in about three weeks and they need me there to testify." She shakes her head. "It could take weeks or months. Though, I doubt they would ask me back if they thought the latter. I've given my statements to the lawyers so it's just a formality at this point."

"And it's about the guy who shot you before you came here?" She never heard that bit of a growl to his words before.

"Who grazed me," she corrects him. "And yes, the same guy."

Sometimes, she thinks he forgets who she used to be and that she's more than capable of taking care of herself. She has been for years. Rose isn't sure if it's because he's so much taller than her or because she has to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him or how easily she fits next to him.

She reaches across the table for his hand. Running her thumb in comforting circles over his, she says quietly. "I have to see this through. I want to watch him answer for what he did. I'm not asking for permission; I'm just telling you so you'll understand."

"Are you going to come back?" He wonders, squeezing her hand back.

She frowns, looking down at their clasped hands and lets go. "I've been spending my time off trying to figure out if I want to stay..."

Monroe stands back from the front counter, arms crossed over his chest.

She starts wandering around the side and stops a foot from him. "And...and I do. I have to go and take care of this first." She shrugs. "But I'll be back. I've become kind of attached."

He smiles. "It's good to hear."

"That reminds me, would you be willing to look after this place while I'm gone? I mean you've picked up a lot over the summer and I'm only a phone call away."

"Of course..." he casts a glance around. "Can't wait to redecorate."

"You're a _Liebling*_, you know?" She grabs his free hand.

He smiles. "I like that.._.Liebling_."

"By the way, that was Malena," Rose grins up at Monroe. "And her mother. And they'll probably be in within a month or so." She shakes her head. "Poor thing."

"Which one?"

"Both of them. Malena's asthmatic; she had three attacks this month alone. I make her a special tea to help with congestion and to calm her down afterward. Her mother's always worried someone will found out...what Malena is. Say something to the wrong people."

He nods. "So, she's Vorherrsch, then?"

"Amelia's a Fuschbau and her husband's a Lowen." She pulls out the recipe for the tea. "Freddy had been working with them for a long time to find ways to help her." Rose is surprised at the suddenly flare of sadness when she brings up her brother's name. She swipes at her eyes. He says nothing about it. "Come on, I'll show you where I keep all the other ones."

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><p>*good bye<p>

*darling, sweetheart, term of endearment

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><p>"What are you smiling at?" He wonders, pouring more of the red in her glass.<p>

"Nothing," she shakes her head. "Or everything or maybe about how I have such excellent taste in wine." She grins, taking sip.

If he's doing this to convince her to come back, he's doing an excellent job; a practically gourmet meal and the zither music is a nice touch. She only remembers mentioning it to him two months ago. Once, she would have called the whole evening disgusting domestic and would have outright scoffed at it all. Younger her was also used to staying up for two days in a row and voluntarily huffed poison into her lungs. Clearly, younger her was a total moron.

"What'd you get it again?"

"Paris. I'll see if I can get a few more bottles to bring back."

His falls a little at the mention of the trip. "Do you get to go anywhere else? Prague?"

She smiles. "I might. Why?"

He tells her about a massive astronomical clock on one of the cathedral faces. He can't remember where it is exactly but the way his face lights up and how animated he gets makes her wish he were coming with her. She tells him so when she's stalling getting in her car to go home. "You could tell me all about it."

"As tempting as that is..." he replies.

She bumps her knee against his, making him look up at her. "I hope you know I wish I didn't have to go."

"Why's that?" he murmurs, leaning in closer.

She only gives him a smirk before she kisses him as an answer. His hand curls around her waist to the small of her back as he returns it. She tries to memorize everything; the feel of his hand on her and the warm, wanted pressure of them, the steady (and right now, accelerating) thud of his heart in time with hers, how he wraps her up but doesn't constrain. It'll have to last her until she gets back. He traces his thumb over her cheekbone; a silent question. She nods, ready to draw him in and not let go.

And the door opens. Just as they're both about to yell at Nick, a woman's voice rings out: "We have to talk!" They extricate themselves and stand.

She has a shock of red hair against her milk pale skin. She's all sharp edges with the smell of blood and whiskey that lingers in her wake. Everything screams feral, enough to set Rosalee's teeth on edge. She turns and focuses on Rose. One jagged finger points. "And she has to go!"

Just as she's about to demand what right she has, Monroe stands between them. "Angelina? I thought you were dead." He murmurs as if to a ghost.

She rolls her eyes. "Look, we really have to talk. Alone." She spits the last part at Rose.

That young part of her, the wilder, stupider part, the part that used to fight for a man's attention rises up. But she tramps it down. "Look, clearly you have some unfinished business, so I'll go..." She looks for her jacket, ready to be gone.

"No," Monroe insists, his hand encircling her wrist. "She's going to. She doesn't get to come here and make demands."

"Fine!" The woman growls. "You can both get yourselves killed, see if I care."

"Is that a threat?" Rose wonders.

The woman's hands with her hands on her hips. "Yeah, I guess so. Considering I'm the one getting paid to do it."

"Wait, someone took a hit out ...on me? Why?"

"See, I didn't get a chance to ask because they had a gun to my head."

He looks over at Rose. "I'm calling Nick."

"That's still a thing?!" She cries. "Oh, my God!"

"He's probably the reason for the hit," Rose replies.

"Yeah, but who want to get at Nick?"

"Give you one guess," she murmurs before Nick picks up and she's left staring down a manic Blutbad.

"So.." Angelina drawls "You're in on this too? A Fuschbau?"

"Reluctantly...at first."

"I knew this wasn't going to end well." She mutters more to herself them anything. But she wanders into the kitchen as Monroe drifts back into the living room.

"He's on his way."  
>She glances in the direction of the kitchen. "So that's Angelina?"<p>

He nods. "That's her."

"Charming," is all she says.

When Nick arrives and everyone almost comes to blows, they decide that Nick insists that Monroe stay with Hank for the night, its the only safe place he can think off the books. Hank, new to all this (to Rosalee's many protests: "He's a Kehrseite and he's going to think you're insane if you tell him."), gamely agrees, though stares when Nick tells him what Rosalee is. As they head out, they say their goodbyes over her open car door. Angelina zips past them on her motorcycle and they wait until the distance drowns out the sound of her engine.

"You'll call if anything changes?" She makes him promise.

"Of course. Don't worry, it'll be fine."

It doesn't feel fine, but she keeps it in. "Promise me you'll be careful." She says quietly.

"Aren't I always?"

"No, you're not. Which is why I have to try to make you promise."

He settles his hands on her shoulders. "Everything is going to be okay. I will be careful. Nick will be careful. I promise. And I'm going to be there to drive you to the airport."

"Ugh," She groans and leans her head against his collarbone. "What a way to end a date." She doesn't dare say that she's feeling that everything she's been given since she's been back is being snatched away.

* * *

><p>They're asking for suicide and they don't even know it.<p>

"No," she crosses her arms over her chest. "No, no. I'm not doing this."

"Look, we don't have a lot of choice or time here, honey." Angelina starts in on her and it's all she can do to keep herself from smacking that smug look off her face.

"Hey, why don't you give us a second, guys?"

Nick needs no other direction and drags Hank with him. Angelina doesn't move for a moment, glaring at them. She rolls her eyes finally and slams the door behind her when she leaves the back room.

Rose covers her face with her hand. "Oh my God...I can't do this. I can't."

"Hey," he encircles her wrist. "I don't like it much either but I'm not going to spend my life looking over my shoulder. Besides, if this is about getting to Nick through his friends, that means you too."

Rose bites at her lower lip, ignoring that last sentiment entirely and the way he looks at her. It's killing her, all of it. "There has to be another way...something else. Anything else."

"What else can we do?"

"I can't —What if you don't wake up? Because of something I did?" She runs her fingers through her hair. "I can't watch you die in my shop."

"Well," he smirks. "Chances are, if it happens, it wouldn't be in the shop."

"That's not funny."

"It's a little funny." He reaches up to settle one hand on her shoulder.

Rose rolls her eyes. "You're terrible; I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because I'm so oddly optimistic? Or because I make a mean risotto?"

She sighs, "Both?"

"As long as you're not after me for my looks."

She can't help the little laugh escape; she covers her mouth with her hand. "You're the worst." she mutters and falls into him.

"Yeah, I know."

Rose manages to keep the tears in check as she mixes it and hands it over. She swallows down the hard lump in her throat as she watches him drink it down.

The moment he closes his eyes, though, she turns her head. No one speaks for a moment.

Angelina presses a hand, a gentle one that Rose would have never expected, on her shoulder. "I'll take care of him," she promises in a low voice. "Don't worry."

"If his hands start to curl or if he goes white," Rose manages to choke out. "You'll have to get him breathing again.

"I will," she promises and gives Rose's shoulder a little squeeze as she passes. But it doesn't fill her with as much confidence as Angelina hopes it will.

Rose keeps her head down and away as they carry him out of the shop. Just as Nick passes she grabs his hand. "Please..."

"I'll bring him back safe," Nick promises, pulling her into a real hug that nearly squeezes the tears out of her once and for all. She hugs back and buries her face in his shoulder for a moment. "It's gonna be okay," he runs his hand up and down her back and it nearly undoes her entirely. "I'll call the minute it's over."

" 'kay..." she murmurs around the lump. "I'm...I'm gonna stay here...just in case."

He gives her one last squeeze before pulling away. "That sounds like a plan."

Rose just nods as he shuts the door behind him. And then it's just her, alone. She retreats to the back room, where she sits (more like perches) on the cot with her phone clutched between her palms.

It seem as though her patience evaporates a little more every times she checks the time. Even as the youngest child in her family, she had the patience to out last the earth. Especially, when one considers DeEtta and her short temper and Freddy's perchance for sticking his nose in places it didn't belong, their mother thought Rose was going to be the easy one. She didn't expect her youngest to patiently wait until everyone had gone to bed to sneak out. Rose had a deep well and learned to draw on it early on.

But it's of no use now. She's not used to being this far removed from the action, from knowing what's going on..._that means you too._ She's the protector, the one with the growl to match her fury and the claws ready to draw blood..._that means you too..._

But not with the watch ticking away on her wrist and the screen on her phone staying blank. The silence presses down on her, surrounding her. And the fear, the kind she's been so familiar with in the last few years, creeps up her spine. It sits with her like a shadow while the hours stretch in front of her.

Two, almost unbearable hours pass before her phone chirps. She almost drops it in her hurry to answer.

"He's fine." Nick assures her before she can say anything. "He..." Nick lets out a low breath. "He's alive. That's what matters."

"What does that mean? Nick, what the hell happened?"

"Angelina...she didn't make it."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"She jumped in front of a gun-" Rose winces at the words. " ...And Rosalee, it happened so fast."

"What did he do?"

'He...he might have fallen off the wagon a bit. I'm not sure, I couldn't tell if it was him or her, it was dark and honestly, I'd rather not know."

"Where is he now?

"We're at his place. He's not...good. He needs you."

"I know. I'm on my way."

She's crazy, she tells herself every other time she makes a turn down familiar streets in the early dawn light. She's certifiable and she shouldn't. Then again the majority of the last ten years has been made up of 'shouldn't's.

When she gets to the door, she pauses. She's flirting with disaster. But like she usually does, she knocks anyway. Nick must have told him or he heard the car because he opens the door right away.

There's nothing for her to say, so instead she stands up on her tiptoes to throw her arms around his neck. It takes him a moment to reciprocate but he does, slowly, carefully. She notes the slightly shaky fingers and holds all the tighter. He finally leans his forehead against her collarbone and exhales. She feels it everywhere.

"I've got you," she murmurs finally.

The shaking vanishes as he tightens his hold on her, settling in at her waist.

"I'm so sorry, _Liebling_." She whispers. "I'm so so sorry. What can I do?"

"Not get on the plane?" He tries to laugh but he sounds like he's underwater.

"I'd rather not, if I had my way." She replies with a sad s smile. "I'm going to lose a whole day."

"Two," he insists. "Another for when you come back."

"Another for when I come back," she agrees.

"How long do you have?"

"You make it sound like I'm going for an execution and not a plane." But she checks her watch. "About an hour until I absolutely have to be there. Any later and I may not make it through security in time."

"Let me take you, like I promised."

"Oh, no. You should stay...I can take a taxi... I threw my bag in the back of the car."

"No, I want to see you off. Like I promised."

So, she lets him. Selfishly, she wants more time. She'd planned for a entirely different goodbye but she'll have to settle for this one, she supposes.

When they get to the departures lane, he pulls her bag out of the front of the Bug and sets it on the curb next to her. She looks up at him, yesterday's clothes rumpled-so unlike him- and dark circles under her eyes (matching her own she's sure). It's enough to make her want to throw her bag back in the car and shout: "Nevermind! I changed my mind. I don't want to go!" and they can drive to California, to the Coast; just anywhere that isn't the airport.

It's why she disappears into the middle of the night, why she vanishes without a word because goodbyes never get easier, only harder. Now would be a good time for a brave face, a laugh and a smile. Something good to leave him with but she's never as brave as she pretends to be. And Rose can't find it in herself to pretend to him now.

"I hate to leave you like this…" It's the only true thing she can think to say. "This is not what I planned at all."

He slips his arms around her waist and pulls her close. "The next time you have to head back to Den Haag, I swear I won't be the target of a hit."

"Promise?" She settles her hands on his arms, leaning her forehead against his jaw.

"I promise."

Rose reaches up to cradle his face in her hands for the last time. "I miss you already," she whispers before she kisses him once.

Rose steps back before Monroe can reach out and hold her to him and make her forget there are clocks and time and places she has to be. She only makes it to the door before she turns around to get one last glimpse. He raises one hand as she steps into the revolving door.

* * *

><p>Like I said, I am a terrible human being<p>

Anyway,

I used the term Vorherrsch because this is what they've used in the show. Granted, it's probably made up but I'm assuming it's a title, like what they call Hank and Juilette.

R&R?

Next time, Rosalee returns to Den Haag and we get to have fun with Wesen politics!


	5. You must see how this could be you

And here is the next section in the arc- Lots of time jumping and dialogue sorry! And a lot of cursing actually. Sorry about that as well.

Expect the next arc to be A LOT shorter than this one.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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><p>"<strong>...Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness, you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho/ lies dead by the side of the road./ You must see how this could be you,/ how he too was someone/ who journeyed through the night with plans / and the simple breath that kept him alive..." Naomi Shihab Nye "Kindness"**

* * *

><p>A kiss is not a promise. It is not a vow or a binding contract. It's not even enough to hold her down. Except it comes back to her when she stands in line for coffee in the Toronto airport and she stumbles over everyday words. They smile sympathetically at her while she turns red. It comes back to her as she watches couples walk hand in hand before her in line for the final boarding call to Amsterdam.<p>

The bags under her eyes pull so hard, she almost falls asleep standing a few times. The last time she slept the whole night through was at least two days ago. She falls into fretful catnaps at 35,000 feet and dreams Monroe didn't actually wake up from the Dead Faint or that he didn't drop her off at the airport or that all of this had been a dream.

By the time she lands in Amsterdam, Rose can't remember what day it is. Alexander greets her at the arrivals and she almost walks right past him. "Let's get you home, _Schatz_." He says quietly in German.

Rose looks up at him. "Where is that?"

Alexander smiles and offers his arm as he always does. "Come on."

She manages to stay awake on the car ride back to Den Haag but starts to fade about the time they hit the city limits. When he drops her off at her old apartment, she dives into bed completely clothed and sleeps for a record of twenty hours. Even during her detox, she didn't sleep this much.

When she wakes, she grabs first for her phone and counts back six hours. Just when she thinks he'll let it go to voicemail: "Rosalee..."

She smiles into the phone at the sound of her own name. "Hey, I just wanted to call and say I'm okay. And that I just woke up from a mini coma."

He chuckles. "How's Den Haag?"

"Well, I've been asleep for the majority of the time here so far." She must still be exhausted or stupid from the lack of sleep. "And you're not here, so points off." She winces at her own words, at the truth of them. "How is everything there?"

"Well, you're not here."

Rose grins into her pillow. "So, terrible then?"

"Just awful."

"How are you? Really? With everything?"

"I'll be okay." He doesn't sound it but she's 3,000 miles away so there's not much to be done from here. "Seriously, though, tell me about Den Haag, I've never been there."

"How about I tell you tomorrow when I've actually walked around in the city again? Talked to some folks, got my head screwed on again."

"That sounds good." She can hear him smile over the phone.

"I don't want to hang up." She admits quietly. "It'll make it real."

"If it's any consolation, I don't want you to hang up either." He replies.

* * *

><p>Den Haag, unlike Portland, has not had as much opportunity to change in her absence. The high-rise view from her apartment is the same; the river is still there, the cars rush around below her. Everything is just how she left it, though neater than usual. All of the clothes are folded and nick-knacks still in their boxes. They'd let out her place to a few junior agents in training but had to move them elsewhere before she got back. She showers and changes into clothes that smell like mothballs but at least they're hers.<p>

Rose pulls her hair out of her face, pinning it into submission. She pauses when she finishes. The woman looking back at her is not the same as the one who left six months ago. She turns, clicks off the light and heads out the door.

Everything is the same, but the sound of Dutch and German ringing out as she makes her way to headquarters unnerves her. She's become accustomed to be it being such a private thing, something special between her and Monroe. And she feels suddenly heavy. She orders 'wrong coffee' as the coffeehouses call lattes here, feeling like a tourist all over again.

When Rose gets to headquarters, she doesn't recognize half the faces as she passes and the receptionist has to ask for her identification. She produces her card and heads to her desk, only to find that it's gone entirely.

Alexander saunters in, resplendent in his crisp suit. "Good to see you among the living."

"I don't feel it quite yet," she confesses.

"The receptionist was supposed to direct you to De Groot but you blew past her."

"Haven't had enough coffee to figure out which way is up, yet." Rose replies taking a sip as she falls into step behind him. "Where is Mercy, by the way?"

"On maternity leave. Bouncing baby girl born two weeks ago."

"Oh...Who the fuck are all these kids?" She hisses as one nearly plows into her.

"Sorry Ma'am! _Excuseer_!" One shouts back in Dutch

"Junior agents. I've got one assigned to me. Gunter, local lad. Very eager to please."

"Does he fetch your coffee and come when he's called?"

Alexander smirks. "I've missed you, _Schatz_."

"I know."

Alexander opens the door to De Groot's office, to find the tiny silvery man with a pile of papers on his desk. He looks up at the sound of the door. "Ah, Frau Calvert, please come in."

Rose and Alexander shut the door behind them while De Groot stands to greet Rose. "You look well."

"I am." She replies, sitting. "All things considered."

He hands her a file. "Previous proceedings to get you caught up."

She thumbs through evidence reports, witness statements, lawyer statements. "When do I get to be in the spotlight?"

"Day after tomorrow. We thought it best we give you a bit of an re-acclimation period."

"Anything I should say to really stick it to him?"

"Not much could save him now. Silvas is a like a pit bull," Alexander remarks. "She may be the only woman on the planet who scares me. And she has no tolerance for dealers or addicts."

Rose backhands him with her folder. "I saved you from that pack of Hundijager, asshole; you should be afraid of me. One of whom I met in up with in Portland."

"How did you know it was one of them?"

"He practically called you by name."

De Groot stops and looks up at her. "And why wasn't this in your report?"

"It happened when I was sorting Ian Harmon out. The bastard shot him and stole his passport. I thought it best I tell you in person."

"And the bastard?" Alexander presses.

"Dead."

De Groot rubs his hand over his forehead. "And I have the strangest sense that the Grimm was involved?"

"He was. He helped me keep Ian safe and back to Amsterdam. He's not like the others."

"Is he aware of us?"

She shakes her head. "I thought it best to let him figure it out. But he's become aware of the larger picture ."

De Groot nods, taking it in. "I see. And in your personal opinion do you see this..." He flips through his sheaf of paper so find the name. "Nicholas Burkhardt posing a threat?"

Rose shakes her head. "Not to the general population in Portland. Though his lack of alliance with the Royals will leave _him_ vulnerable. I'm not sure how aware he is of that. "

"Alexander, what do you make of all this? As an outsider to the situation?" De Groot wonders.

"I believe it's an issue to be brought before the entire council. Perhaps even select members of the Laufer. Mesiner for example. Or even Aramas. I would also bring in testimony from the sleeper cell in Portland to get the best possible picture."

"If anyone else gets word of this, it will look as though we're aligning ourselves with the Laufer and plotting open field rebellion." Rose warns. "No one is going to walk away from that."

"Indeed not and for now, we'll keep the matter quiet. Frau Calvert, you will say nothing of your involvement. We have a trial to commence with. Please be here at nine sharp."

* * *

><p>"It's weird to be back." She tells him that night on the phone.<p>

"Weird how?"

"Everything's the same. But not the same. There are all these junior agents and replacements...And everyone speaks German..."

"That reminds me, Nick's been picking up on German. Like crazy fast. I must have been muttering to myself and he caught most of it. Missing an article or two, though."

"Damn it. So, no more shit talking behind his back?"

"Sadly, no."

"I guess I'll just have to teach you Dutch then, when I get back. How's Juliette? Have you seen her lately?"

"She's all right., I guess. I haven't seen her much lately. But I'll tell her you say 'hi' the next time I see her."

"Has she made any progress with remembering Nick at all?"

"Not yet. I've been looking in some of those books you left out but so far haven't found anything on memory restoration."

Rose taps her chin. "I'm going to be heading to Paris for a bit. I have a contact there that may know more."

"Who knows more than you?"

"I can't tell if that's flattery or general surprise."

"It's both, honestly."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Headquarters is a flurry of activity. Junior agents without an assigned agent run up and down the corridors, cleaning and clearing the way for the visiting Councilmembers.<p>

Rose takes her seat in the corner, beside Alexander, as the rest of the Council files into the long, windowless Council room, reserved for meetings such as these. Some members have changed in her absence, but Rose recognizes most of the faces. They do not greet her, though. And why would they? She's just a field agent.

A tall woman with a long, black braid over one shoulder pounds a gavel. "I hereby call this trial to order. Councilmember De Groot has brought us a pressing matter. Councilmember De Groot?"

"Thank you, Councilmember Bodi." De Groot stands. "I bring before the Council, one Louis Sherra who is currently held in detention with Interpol in Paris. On charges of fraudulent papers, customs evasion and several attempts of murder." The other Councilmembers leaf through their packets, frowning in concentration. "He has been a well known dealer for the last decade in Austria, France and Belgium."

One raises her hand.

"Yes, Councilmember Hamasaki ."

"Has he violated the Codex?" She asks, dark eyes exacting and sharp.

"He caused the untimely and suspicious deaths of no more than thirty Wesen in the last year alone." De Groot replies.

"Are the agents present?" Councilmember Bodi wonders.

De Groot turns to them and gestures. "Herr Steiner and Frau Calvert were the apprehending agents."

"Frau Calvert," Councilmember Hamasaki begins. "It says you gathered intelligence on Sheera for a year before attempting to draw him out?"

Rose stands beside De Groot at his desk, swallowing hard before answering. "Monsieur Sheera had a small network and didn't treat anyone. I had to be sure and I had to have a way in before I confronted him."

"And you're sure?" Another Councilmember asks.

"Absolutely. While posing as a Trausminsel owner in Paris, he took me to his refinery warehouse in Nice and I saw the product for myself. With this information, Herr Steiner was able to find a second one in Marseilles and shut it down."

"It says in the notes that you were an addict before you came here. Don't you think that might make you a bit biased?"

"Of course, it would, but it also gave me the advantage. I wasn't afraid to touch it, smell it. I gained his trust as Councilmember De Groot asked me to."

A few lean to one another and whisper behind their hands. Hamasaki remains stationary; she keeps her eyes fixed on Rose.

"And because I had help, we were able to shut down his refineries in Nice and Marseilles. None of his network has been able to regain their foothold. With a little more work and time, these small time dealers could be removed entirely from the streets."

"Do you believe Sheera should be allowed out of prison?" Hamasaki says.

"That's not up to me." Rose replies evenly.

Councilmember Bodi leafs through the file. "Do you see him returning to this life? Continuing to open refineries and deal?"

"He doesn't seem like the type to quit." Rose admits.

"Agent Steiner, do you have anything to add here?" Councilmember Bodi asks.

"In my opinion Monsieur Sheera would have killed Agent Calvert without a shred of remorse. The conditions he kept his refineries in will probably end up being the cause of most of his worker's deaths. It's best he's held up as an example to the others." Alexander lists off without so much as a shake.

"We will take your statements into consideration. Thank you both for your service." She dismisses them. "We will contact you with any further questions or comments. We will call for you when we've reached a final decision and a verdict."

Rose and Alexander excuse themselves from the proceedings and head out into the hall. A few of the junior agents scatter from their places at the door. Alexander pays them no mind as they walk.

"We have a four o'clock meeting with some agents from Italy. Apparently the PWO is getting itchy again. They've made some very public killings in Italy, Bosnia, Germany and your own Florida."

"Lovely."

"And then I was thinking of dinner. Care to join?"

"Sure."

He checks his phone. "Good. Femke's dying to meet you."

Rose stops. "Who...who's Femke?"

"My...significant other..." Alexander shrugs. "We've been seeing each other for a year now."

"A year?" Rose asks. "A fucking year and not a word?"

Alexander shrugs. "It's never came up. Now come along, we've got meetings."

* * *

><p>"What's she like, your Femke?" Rose asks as they sit down that night..<p>

"How do you think she is?" He wonders.

"She'd have to have the patience of a saint to be with you."

"Well you can ask her yourself because here she comes." He nods toward the door.

Rose half-turns in her seat, expecting to see a clone of whatever European model was in fashion, high cheekbones, tiny hips and legs for miles. But the woman Alexander stands to greet is rather normal looking. Plain even, curvy in a way that assumes she doesn't say no to a few extra pieces of _appeltart_. Her dark, curly hair is pulled up and out of her heart-shaped face.

He calls her "_Amour_," and greets her with a kiss. "Rose, this is my Femke."

"It's so wonderful to meet you." Femke says in Dutch as she pulls Rose in for a kiss on both cheeks as though they've been friends all along.

"It's...wonderful to meet you as well." Rose stammers, ready for an evening of cold glances and suspicious backhanded high school girl politics and hesitantly surprised by Femke's warmth.

"Alexi's told me so much about you. And he was devastated when you went home to America."

Rose tries to hide her smile at Alexander's nickname. "Well, I was devastated too."

Dinner passes with good food, the kind Rose didn't realize she was missing: _Snert_, _Andijviestamppot _with plenty of gravy, and for dessert _Broodpap_. As much as she loves it, she knows there's no way she'd be able to replicate it at home.

And Femke is fascinatingly ordinary, running a bakery and coffee shop she inherited from her parents. She asks Rose about the shop and about cupcakes and how popular are they really? Would it be a worthwhile thing to try for a while? Maybe she should could try a Swiss chocolate with vanilla custard frosting. Rose is practically drooling by the end of the first course and begging her to come and set up shop next door to her in Portland. She'd make a killing.

They never stop touching through the whole meal; Femke leans on Alexander's arm; he rests his hand on her knee. When Rose comes back from the restroom, she catches Alexander holding the back of his hand up to Femke's rosy cheek. And Femke's smile is brighter than all the candles in the restaurant. Rose knows that look, that contented smile that makes everything in the world seem so far away.

Is that she looks like? Does she look that happy when she's with Monroe? Because she feels it. Suddenly, Rose's heart weighs so heavily on her chest that it's hard to stand up right. One simple thought weaves it's way through her head:_ I want to go home_.

"_Schatz_, no business tonight." Alexander scolds her when she checks her phone. No messages.

"I don't think it's for business," Femke smirks.

"Who is he?" Alexander wonders. "or she?"

"It's nothing, " Rose protests. "Just casual."

"If it were casual, you wouldn't be checking your mobile as much as you are." He insisted. "Don't be so shocked, I know how to read people too."

"There's nothing to say," Rose insists.

* * *

><p>"I had a guy come in today. It was...weird."<p>

"Weird how?"

"Came in and wanted help with an obsessive spell or affliction or something. To get rid of it."

"Was it for a person or an animal?"

"A person. He seemed sane but on edge."

"How long has it been going on?"

"Couple of weeks but he wouldn't be specific. Kept evading any sort of direct answer."

"When did he start to notice the obsessive thoughts?"

"After he kissed her."

"That's how it usually starts." She replies with a smile.

"That's what I said. He didn't find it so funny, though."

"I can't imagine he would. You could have a look through the books on the second shelf and see what you can find. Though I'd need more information."

"How much longer do you think you'll be there?"

"Well, I'm heading to Paris in a few days and I'll probably be there two weeks or so. I don't know for sure, why?"

"I may have learned a lot but I'm not you."

"You're doing fine, I swear. I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't trust you."

"Malena came in today."

Rose's breath caught in her throat. "How is she?"

"Still small. Anita said she had fewer attacks this month."

"That's fantastic." She murmurs.

"She asked where you were and when you'd be home."

"I'll be home soon."

* * *

><p>It's no surprise that Paris is not her favorite city. Last time, she was shot at and this time, she gets to deliver a death sentence. The Council voted unanimously for the death sentence the day before yesterday. As per tradition, the apprehending agents are required to reveal the decision to the condemned. Rose is just glad she doesn't have to carry out the sentence.<p>

"It's a done deal, Rose," he tells her as they drive to the hotel.

"Just because I agree with the sentence doesn't mean I'm getting any enjoyment out of this." She replies.

"We're simply doing our jobs."

"It's my last one," she insists. "After this I'm done. And I'm going back to Portland for good."

He stares at her. "But Rose..."

"I got a taste of civilian life and I really like it. I get to help people. Feels...feels like it means more than all this."

Alexander laughs. "And here I thought you'd never go domestic."

"That's not...I have a chance to make a home. Maybe be with my family."

"I am glad, _Schatz_, surprised though. Femke said you seemed like you were elsewhere during dessert."

Rose just glares at him the whole time they check in and drop off their bags.

"Your man wouldn't have anything to do with it, would he?" Alexander wonders from her doorway.

Rose rolls her eyes. "He's not my man, or anyone's."

"Whatever you say."

"Just because you have found your domestic bliss with Femke, doesn't mean that we all—" her message alarm goes off.

_Nothing to report. Just miss you-M_

She looks up at Alexander and he smiles. "Oh S_chatz_...what is it you Americans say?...You're fucked."

She turns off her phone and puts it in her purse, crossing her arms over her chest. "I have an errand I have to run."

* * *

><p>The smell of an apothecary, no matter the country always puts her at ease. It is always feels like coming home. She almost expects Monroe to appear behind one of the shelves and then she frowns at her own stupidity.<p>

"_Bonjour_!" A high-pitched voice rings out. "_Je serai avec vous dans un moment*_!"

"Don't worry!" Rose calls back. "It's not urgent."

"Rosalee ?" She calls out.

"_Bonjour_ Layla!"

There's a crash and a very tall woman appears from the back. She rushes out and envelops Rosalee in a hug. "Oh my darling friend, how are you?"

"I'm very well," Rose laughs and hugs her back, careful not to dislodge Layla's hijab. "And you? How's business?"

"Oh you know...Muslim and Hexenbiest is not the most welcoming combination." Layla shrugs. "What brings you to my corner of the world?" The last time Rose had set foot in Layla's shop in the 8th arrondissment of Paris in her last sweep gathering evidence against Louis Sheera. Layla's family had been the apothecary business since before the first crusade. Rose's family only turned it shortly after the French Revolution and courtier espionage was no longer an option.

"Well, I'm in time in town for a trial but I have a professional question to ask you."

"Oh? Are you back in the business for good now?"

"It looks like it. But I have this ...client who's suffered memory loss from a L'espirit Ailleus spell."

"Has it been broken?"

"Yes but, she can't remember her boyfriend. She remembers everything else but not him."

Layla runs her fingers over her chin. "Strange...Did you break it?"

"No, someone else mixed up the potion but I have no idea who actually administered it to her."

"You better find out soon." Layla stresses. "There are way casters can create messy obsessive behaviors between the patient and the person who administers the antidote."  
>"It can? Or it does?"<p>

Layla flips a few pages. "Of all the documented cases that my family's encountered since the time of the first crusade, it looks like most of the time it does."

"Is there a way to undo it?"

Layla turned the book to show her, not that Arabic is a language Rose can read at all. "Looks like purification and then the blood of the forgotten. For both the afflicted and the person who is exhibiting the obsessive behavior."

Rose runs her fingers through her hair. "Of course, it is."

Layla takes one of her business cards and writes something down. "Call me if you need something, maybe between the two of us, we can figure something out."

* * *

><p>*I'll be with you in a moment.<p>

* * *

><p>By the time she returns to the hotel, its just starting to get dark and the chill hasn't quite set in yet; Rose finds Alexander in one of the outdoor cafes, a tiny mug of espresso and a cigarette dangling from his fingertips.<p>

"I thought you quit." She sits down beside him.

"I did. But every once in a while, it's nice to remember what I gave up." He smiles.

"You got any extra hidden in there?"

Alexander digs out the pack and offers her one. She takes one puff and exhales, blowing smoke into the twilight. "I thought you quit." He retorts.

"I never was a smoker, except in high school. Besides, once an addict, always an addict. It never really goes away."

"Does your man know you sneak fags now and then?"

She shakes her head. "This is my first in two years. And no."

"Are you ever going to tell me anything about him?" Alexander wonders as the waiter brings her an equally tiny cup of espresso.

"You never said a thing about Femke. I didn't even know she existed until the other day."

"So it's spite then?" He wonders.

"I don't see why it matters. We were partners, that's all."

"You're different than when you left."

"Different how?"

Alexander shrugs. "You're...softer. Then when you went away. You smile more. You seem less sad."

"So?"

"If this is because of someone. I'd like to buy them a drink at least." He grins. "You're so hard on everyone including yourself. This person, whoever they may be, did something no one's been able to do in a long time."

"I didn't plan for any of it." She admits. "It just sort of happened. He...he can just see everything. And he doesn't care about who I was. We leave the past in the past."

"Sounds like a good man."

"He is."

"Is he one of us?"

She nods. "Blutbad."

To his credit, Alexander doesn't react much; just nods.

"You're not going to ask how that works? No super personal questions?"

He shrugs. "Not for me to judge. Especially because Femke is Faulien*."

"You're shitting me."

Alexander laughs for the first time she's heard it since she's been back. "You know I have never really understood that particular American phrase of yours."

"I bet her parents were thrilled when she brought you home."

"Very much so. Her entire herd was rather...?"

"Petrified?" Rose supplies, laughing.

"It was awkward at first but we're found our way. They're not terrified of me anymore. Though, I still can't make any sudden movements around them." He blows a single smoke ring that keeps it form as it drifts into the nearby streetlamp light.

* * *

><p>* a wesen I totally made up. A deer-like wesen that led to the rise of the myth of the faun. Usually run in herds, close family ties like Seelengut<p>

* * *

><p>Louis Sheera's handsomeness has diminished in the near six months the Rose saw him last. The bright orange jumpsuit doesn't do his any favors. His long hair has all been sheared off and were new lines around his eyes. Six months of denied luxury certainly took their toll.<p>

She already told the layer she doesn't wish to speak but has her testimony read aloud in French; it sounds so much prettier this way.

They wait day in and day out for the final preceding. After a week, the judge pronounces that Louis Sheera is guilty of ten counts of customs fraud, two aggravated assault and four counts of attempted murder will be sentenced for ten years.

After the judge bangs the gavel, Sherra looks back at Rose and Alexander. Rose shakes her head

Sheera pales; he'll be lucky if he survives a year inside.

As they leave the courthouse, a familiar British voice asks: "Oy, love, spare a fag?"

Rose turns to find Ian Harmon with a cap pulled low over his eyes. His voice is cheery with an added layer of Disney cockney but his eyes are serious: Play along, they say.

"I don't but Alexander...?" She taps him on the shoulder.

"Spare a fag, Gov?"

"Certainly," Alexander pulls a packet and hands him one. "It's done," he adds in a low voice.

"Meisner sent me." Ian whispers as he lights the cigarette. "Wants to arrange a meeting with Rosie.  
>"Whatever for?" She kept the smile on her face.<p>

Ian smiles. "What else? Your rogue Grimm."

"Fuck Meisner," she hisses. "I'm not spying."

"It's not up to me. I'm supposed to tell you." He hands her a paint chip with a number on the back. "Call him first. Use your cell, not the hotel phone."

"No shit. I may not be a spy but I'm not brain dead."

"Cherrio, love! Gov!" He tips his hat at the Alexander and disappears, flicking ash like he's leaving a trail of breadcrumbs.

"Goddamn fucker," Rosalee hisses and turns to Alexander. "Does De Groot know about this? Because I did not sign up for this. I'm not calling him and I'm not doing it."

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you hate Paris." Monroe exhales. "I didn't think anyone hated Paris."<p>

"I don't hate it exactly." Rose peers out her hotel bay window. "I just have some not so great memories associated with it, is all. I don't hate the food..." She offers. "Just tell me what's going on there, I'm sure it's so much more fun than what's going on here."

"Well, Juliette and Nick...not so good."

"How not good are we talking? Can she remember how much he'd been lying to her?"

"Adalind is back."

Rose presses her face against the glass. "Are you kidding me? Who else has she poisoned this time around?"

"No one yet. But she's making everything...difficult."

"I'm sort of surprised you haven't ripped her throat out yet."

"Don't tempt me. For all the shit she's put us through, it'd be a mercy."

"Well don't do anything crazy until I get back. I might have figured out how to help Juliette, we just need to know who woke her up. We're going to have to figure out who that is."

* * *

><p>Once she's back in Den Haag, she spends a week filing out paperwork and attending debriefing meetings. She pretends not to notice how sad Alexander seems. He simply barks orders at his Junior Agent, Gunter and she gets at least three "wrong coffees" a day as a result.<p>

"Before you go," De Groot digs through his many files before handing her a photograph in their last meeting. "I found it the other day and thought you might want it. It's so close to Christmas, I thought it might bring you some solace."

Her mother smiles back at her through nearly forty years, one hand on her slightly rounding belly, the other on her father's. Her hair is bright auburn and smile full. Her father stands beside her, arm around her shoulder looking so much like Freddy, it hurts. Rose can almost hear him now, telling her about the first time he saw her mother; "... she nearly ran me down with her bike. The sun was setting and it got in her eye and she didn't see me coming. Of course, neither did I."

Rose turns the photograph over to see 'George and Gloria and DeEtta 1968' written in careful Dutch.

"When you see her, give her my regards."

"I will ," she promises. But she can't think of a reason she'd see her mother or DeEtta anytime soon.

"Are you quite sure about all this?"

She pockets the photograph. "I'm a runner. You and I both know that. And I'm tired of running . And I have a chance to make a home for myself."

De Groot smiles. "I understand. I do."

"Then you didn't tell Mesiner that I was here?"

"No, of course not."

"If he asked you, or Ian, I don't want any part in the game they're playing. I'm out. I'm going back to Portland to continue my brother's work."

"A noble goal to be sure."

* * *

><p>"Nick, I swear-"<p>

"Monroe? It's me. What the hell is going on?"

"Oh..." he gulps down a breath. "Oh, its you."

"Yeah, it's me. I haven't heard form you in a few days and I was worried. What happened?"

"Well, remember the guy who came in a few weeks ago with the obsessive affliction? Well he's been obsessed with Juliette."

"Oh my God..." She breathes into her hand. "He woke her up. He was working with the Hexenbiests."

"He's also Nick's Captain."

"Oh Jesus."

"Pretty much yeah. Nick ended things and now he's staying here... I mean, I couldn't let him sleep in his truck."

"Okay...okay...Just Keep everyone from killing each other for the next forty eight hours."

"What? Why?"

"Well, I'm getting on a plane tomorrow morning and I'll be landing in Portland at ten thirty on Wednesday and —"

"I'll be there."

* * *

><p>As she powers her phone back on, emails and texts scroll across the screen. She flicks through the useless ones until she finds the one she's been waiting for.<p>

_Waiting at arrivals-M._

Rose throws her phone in her bag and waits, not patiently, for her aisle's turn to de-plane. She tries not to call every single person in front of her a curse in every language she knows. She tries not to add to her karma quota, which is already in the red.

When she finally does de-plane, she practically sprints down the massive corridors, past the moving sidewalks and coffee shops and the Powell's. She's spent the last month and a half without him and she can't believe how much she wants his arms around her again.

She pushes through the bottleneck to find him standing head and shoulders above the crowd. Holding a bouquet of red and yellow tulips, he scans the incoming travelers with trepidation until his eyes meet hers.

Rose runs straight at him, not remembering when she drops her bag nor taking those last few steps to meet him. Just as he's starting to say something, she loops her arms around his neck and pulls him into the kiss she's been thinking about since she'd gone away. And it's just as good as she remembered. Better even.

The sounds of the airport, last calls for flights to places she's never been, greetings in languages she automatically translates, fade to a buzzing white noise. His fingers rest gently but tight on her waist, settling on her hips, gathering her up and in. They are the only real things in her world. It's good. Right. She thinks for a moment that her heart is going fizzle right out of her chest.

And if it hadn't been for Nick, she would have gladly stood there all day.

"I missed you," she says simply when she settles back down.

"I missed you too," he replies. And she'd give anything to be able to giggle like she wants but Nick is there and his problem takes precedence.

As they head toward baggage claim ("Might have done a wee bit of packing this time around and picked up a few bottles of that red wine." she told them), Monroe reaches over and grabs a hold her hand and they let Nick lead the way. "You looked a little wobbly," he reasons.

"I am a little wobbly. I tried to sleep on the plane as much as I could but my internal clock is all screwed up. What time is it?"

"Eleven."

She groans and leans against him. "Let's fix Juliette and then I'm going to crash."

* * *

><p>So, R&amp;R?<p> 


	6. only kindness

And so, we come to the end of the second arc! Like I promised, this one is way shorter than the last two.

And the next one is gonna be a one-shot!

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all

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><p>"<strong>Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, only kindness that ties your shoes/ and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,/ only kindness that raises its head/ from the crowd of the world to say/ it is I you have been looking for..."** **Naomi Shihab Nye "Kindness"**

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><p>With a steady stream of coffee, and one well placed hour-long nap, Rose makes it to seven o'clock with most of her sanity still intact. She can't say how long it'll last, though, with an unconscious Grimm scrawled across her floor, a panicking Kheresite and a haggard Zauberbiest all in her shop. And never in her life has she been so excited to see the back of three people once they had cleared everything up with a tea, a lie and few drops f blood. As soon as they're out the door, she collapses over her worktable. "Am I allowed to go home yet?" She wonders.<p>

"Yep, come on." He helps her up and guides her to the car.

The streetlights passing overhead cast a hypnotizing spell as they weave in and out of traffic. Her eyelids are too heavy to keep open so she leans back against the seat, turning her face toward him.

"Rose..."

"I'm listening..." She murmurs. "I'm listening. Keep talking..." The last thing she remembers is listening to his voice (and so glad that is not over the phone) drowning out the sound of the engine, the tires on the rain soaked road. She reaches out, as she starts to drift off, and tucks the tips of her fingers in the crook of his elbow. He doesn't pull away.

She falls hard and fast into dreams of rain and walking hand in hand with him in the twisting labyrinth of Paris streets. The lights are bright in her eyes, glowing gold against the gloom that's settling in fast. He talks but she can't seem to catch individual words but it doesn't matter.

"Stay," she says. "Stay with me."

He smiles and then suddenly vanishes. She calls out his name until her voice gives out. And one by one the lights go out. Guns go off in the distance but no matter how far she runs, how fast, she can't find the people she loves. She can't save them. There's no blood, only smoke and echoing screams that never die down as it grows darker and darker.

She hears the click of a gun behind her; her luck's run out. She turns to find Ian's the one holding it to her back. He only smirks at her as he pulls the trigger.

Rose bolts up, almost out of bed with a barely concealed shriek.

"Rose?!"

Rose grips the sheets and tries to remember where she is. She recounts all the travel to and from the airports, tries to put the days back in order. She lets out a shuddering breath as he reaches out to put his hand on her fist balled in her jersey sheets.

"Rose..."

She glances over to see Monroe sitting up beside her, turning on her bedside lamp.

"Rose...what's up?"

She runs a careful hand over her eyes as she settles back down. "It's nothing, just a nightmare..." She half turns. "What are...how...?"

"You asked me to stay." He tilts his head to one side, surprised.

"And you stayed?"

"Of course."

Without another thought, Rose reaches over and settles her arm around his neck, resting her head against his chest. His arm curves around her shoulders as they settle in together once again; his other hand runs over hers in careful measured strokes. "I'm glad." She whispers. "I thought that was part of the dream."

"You want to tell me about it?"

"Nope." She burrows farther in, as if to escape it.

"Not even a little?"

"Not even at all. It's just a dream, it doesn't mean anything."

He squeezes her hand. "You know, this isn't Den Haag. You can tell me things."

Rose thinks back to Alexander and his whole spiel about her being different, softer. Rose sees Femke and her happy glow and how much she'd missed Monroe that she almost couldn't breathe. She presses her nose against his cheek so she doesn't have to speak up. "It was Ian." She murmurs. "In my dream. I was in Paris and it was raining and he shot me in the back."

He says nothing for a moment, only runs his fingers up and over her shoulder, directly over the scar that she can barely feel through her shirt. "He wouldn't actually do it, would he?"

She shrugs. "We have a history but the Laufer is his cause; he'd die for it, he'd kill for it. He already has."

"Well, I can certainly understand why you hate Paris now."

She grins. "You know, I've always wanted to go to Ireland...or New Zealand. Some where with an ocean view."

"I'm sensing an island theme here."

"Yep." She closes her eyes again. "An island far far away from all that nonsense."

He's quiet a moment.

"You're picturing me in a bikini, aren't you?"

"Maybe a little bit, yeah."

"Are we in Ireland or New Zealand?"

"New Zealand."

"Perfect." She grins. "Just in time for Christmas."

She drops off again, matching her breathing to his and telling her heart to steady itself; she's home now.

* * *

><p>The shop has remained relatively unchanged, despite Monroe's many threats on his way out this morning that he re-painted everything and put all of her most commonly used ingredients on the very top shelves ("So, my suffering is funny to you, now?" She wondered this morning as he lingered at the door). Rose walks behind the counter, running her fingers across the surfaces and noting all the divits and cracks as familiar to her as her own hands. Behind her, the book spines stand slightly out of their previous order. But, as far as she can tell, the ingredients are all in their right places. She takes in a deep breath; the smells of her books and cedar and freshly drying peppermint. She rolls up her sleeves and gets to work.<p>

Two hours later, her phone beeps in her pocket. She smiles, thinking he's already sent her a recipe he wants to try to teach her tonight or asking her how she likes the redecoration (she's just glad he didn't put any Christmas lights up).

_Read an interesting article __today__- A_

She taps 'today' and follows the link to an article from a French newspaper. Her French is passable but she gathers that Louis Sheera was found dead in his cell this morning: a toothbrush shiv puncturing his lungs. He never even made a sound.

_Thought he was in maximum security-R_

_He was-A_

_Case closed-R_

_Our friend from Amsterdam said you never called-A_

_Not going to call him. You can tell him to get someone else- R_

_No one else will do quite as nicely- A_

_Tell him to fuck off. I'm done- R_

_You should probably tell them yourself. Not to pleased-A_

There's no way Alexander could have known but the bell above the door chimes. Rosalee grabs her trusty box cutters under the counter; she locked the door behind her this morning coming in. She's sure. "We're closed," she calls out, sounding more sure than she feels.

Inez walks in, flanked by two men. All wear the same sort of nondescript clothing , easily forgotten; a trick she learned early and never forgot. It served her well. "Hello again, Calvert." Inez purrs. "It's been a while."

She nods curtly, but not impolitely. "I've never met your friends." She nods at the two men, ever watching the perimeter.

Inez smiles. "Oh? This is Fredricks," She indicates the taller one, who woges into a Taureus-Armenth. "And Hammond." She indicates the stockier one who shifts into a Steinadler. "We've gotten word about your alliance-"

"It's not an alliance." Rosalee growls. "There's nothing political about it. We do things differently here, I'm sure you remember."

Inez rolls her eyes. "Come on, Calvert. Harmon told me everything. "

Fury rises up in Rosalee's throat. She has to swallow it down, hard. "And what did he tell you?"

"That your father-"

"If you're smart, you won't finish that sentence." She sniffs. "You didn't know my father and neither did Ian."

Inez and her backup pull back.

"And if you think that's your ace in the hole, you've got another thing coming." Rosalee looks them each in the eye. "Now, get out. I'm not going to tell you again. " She points and manages to keep the shaking out of both her arms and voice.

They slink toward the door but Inez turns back to look at her just before she disappears. Rose rushes to the door and locks it behind them. She slides down, back to the door and takes deep calming breaths. Part of her can't believe Ian would try to sink that low, try to use her father as a reason to help them.

"He would have wanted it," Ian would say. "He would have been proud." And how the fuck would he know? Her father was dead and buried and had been for the better part of a decade. Ian would know, neither would De Groot. Her father was dead and gone, beyond anymore hurt or disappointment that she might inflict.

Rose grabs for her bag and pulls out the photograph. She resettles her self against the door, holding the picture of her mother and father before her and studying it like a roadmap.

* * *

><p>That night, during the kiss over her doormat, Rose decides to keep it quiet a few days longer; Inez and the photograph. Happiness with him is right within her grasp and she's too weak to throw it out yet. She likes feeling small and protected and understood too much. And she decides that she is simply going to be happy tonight. So that, in case everything falls apart, she can look back on tonight and remember they were happy.<p>

He gives up trying to help and just takes over. Rose doesn't mind; she perches on the counter, next to the stove, ladling in the vegetable stock but only when asked.

She settles her back against the cabinets as he talks about this and that and all the things she missed while she was gone (well, a lot of the things he tried to tell her last night but fell asleep), admiring the way his hands move effortlessly from stirring to chopping. To the way they settle on her knee when he's close enough.

"I can't believe you don't cook." He says as she pours more wine in their glasses. "You make zaubertraunks and potions and save our asses on a regular basis... and...you set water on fire." He finishes incredulously.

"I do not!" She whines. "I can make scrambled eggs and bacon...and cereal and noodles."

He raises one eyebrow at her.

"Hey, I survived this long without your help and I'm not malnourished or anything."

"On scrambled eggs..." he echoes with a smirk.

"Don't turn your nose up at scrambled eggs. Lots of protein."

"Also a lot of cholesterol." He leans against her knee.

"Shut up," she smiles and leans over to kiss his temple. It's odd, still to be able to reach out and touch him whenever she wants. "When are we going to eat?"

"So, I'm allowed to talk about the food _I'm_ making...but not about anything else?" He wonders, turning off the burners.

"You're going to let me starve?"

"Never." He leans in to kiss her as she twists to grab bowls out of the cabinet. They eat sitting on the counter, instead of the table that is covered in laundry she has yet to fold, and it feels as though they've been doing this forever. When they finish, he hops down first and stops suddenly.

His hand curves a under her knee and pulls her a little closer. She loops her arms around his shoulders. "So, are you going to tell me the real reason for the nightmare?" He wonders.

"Monroe, I told you it was just a dream and it doesn't mean anything and —"

His thumbs flickers over her kneecap. "You don't have to go into specifics...I just get the sense that there's just something you're not telling me."

She slides off the counter to face him. "My old life seems to far away when I'm home. But it's not and it's there and I'm always going to worry that it's going to bleed into this one and ruin...everything."

"It won't. We can—"

"Ian was in Paris. He wanted me to meet with some members of the Laufer."

"What for?"

"What else? Nick. I haven't spoken to them but..." she shakes her head. "I know what they'd want from me. I know what they're capable of." She presses her forehead against his, holding his face between her palms lightly. He settles his hands on her waist. "And I don't want to get mixed up in that mess in anymore than I already am. I don't want to drag us into the middle of something that is bigger than we can even imagine." She thinks back to Kelly and her warning _You do realize the danger you're putting yourselves in, standing with my son. Not just other Grimms, but your own kind...the Royals... _

He says nothing, only waits.

"You know what I am; I'm never going to be out of all of this. And you can walk away right now." But God, she hopes he won't. She's gone and gotten herself attached like an idiot. But there is its. "And...and I wouldn't blame you at all."

Monroe grips her hand in his. "We're more than capable of handling whatever comes our way, us three. Well, four now, with Hank. And I guess five, with the Captain..." His eyes meet hers and hold. "Besides, we're already in the middle. I don't think there's an exit point here." He's not talking about Nick or the Laufer or the Council or the Royals.

The words fills her with such a happy buzz, everything else floats away. And she shouldn't trust that, she knows. She can't stop the smile, nor does she want to. "No, I don't think so." She agrees quietly, settling her hand against his shoulder. "I guess we'll just have see what happens."

He goes to the cabinet but not before dropping a kiss on her temple, pressing one large hand to her opposite cheek, a gesture so full of affection that it undoes her. In the space of the seconds when their skin connects, she grabs his arm and grips tight.  
>"What's wrong?"<p>

She shakes her head. "Nothing...Nothing's wrong. I'm just very fond of you."

He smiles. "I'm very fond of you, too."

"I mean—" She swallows hard; stupid jet lag. "I haven't had someone... look out for me like you have in a very long time. If...If ever."

He's just about to say something else when she stands on her tiptoes to stop him; she doesn't need to hear anything else from him. Immediately, his hands go to her hips, thumbs slipping against her bones but not hard enough to hurt, and he pulls her to him so there's no space, no distance. She follows the line of his shirt down to the buttons and starts working at them, slowly and carefully. His heart, under her hand, races, like before. And she hopes no other ex-girlfriends, or Grimms (as much as she's come to like Nick) or anyone, decides that now is the right moment to interrupt because she may not be able to stop.

"We don't have to—"

Rose silences him with an insistent, indulgent kiss, unfolding against him all the while, matching her shallow breathing to his. "I know. I want this...I want you."

He responds only with a kind of kiss that she'd never received from him before; with a bit of a bite to it and curling fingers in her hair and at her back. She grips his shirt lapels and pulls him with her as she slowly backs them out of the kitchen. For every step she takes back, he follows willingly until they hit her bedroom. They press against the door a moment, while she fumbles for the doorknob.

And for a while, the two of them are the only real people in the world. She lets everything else fall away. "Still fond of me?" He wonders later, keeping his arm tight around her waist, fingers making nonsensical patterns on the small of her bare back.

"Very, very, very fond." Rose sighs into his neck. She runs her fingers up and down the inside of his wrist, following the veins and tendons. When she gets to his palm, he tries to catch her fingers but he never can. "I'm just sorry it took us so long to get here."

He reaches up and rests his hand on her cheek. "You don't have to be sorry. We're here now."

"We're here now." She agrees, closing her eyes for a moment.

He chuckles. "You agreed with me on the first go...Usually, we have to fight about it, you know?"

"It's the dopamine, serotonin and a couple of hits of oxytocin talking." She murmurs. "It has absolutely nothing to do with you."

"I love it when you talk sciencey to me." He laughs.

"It's true though," she hums. "And by tomorrow, I'll be totally normal again."

He runs his free hand through her loose hair. "You're not so bad like this, just saying."

She grins to herself, reaches out to slip her fingers between his and marvels at the spaces where their skin meets. "You know...I've always thought your hands were so beautiful."

"Just my hands?" He wonders.

Rose leans over him and kisses him once. "Other parts are nice too. But," she pulls their joined hands closer. "I like your hands; they're beautiful."

"Are you sure that's not the oxytocin talking?" He wonders.

"Maybe. But I like your calluses and scars and everything, even when I'm not doped up on bonding hormones." Not that she doesn't have her own share of scars and she watches as his eyes travel to the one across her arm. "Sort of reminds me."

"Of what?

"That we've both done some shitty, fucked up things in the past. But we figured it out; we're better now." She squeezes his hand. "Things are better now."

* * *

><p>And so there you have it<p>

Up next: the not-so-happiest time of the year: CHRISTMAS. and you know what christmas means-FAMILY DRAMA

R&R?


	7. let your heart be light

WHOOOO CHRISTMAS as promised!

Just a reminder, this is a one shot and is self contained and picks up very shortly after the last arc. I'm working on the next arc, which is going to be a bit tricker than originally planned so it might take a bit longer.

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all, except the canon divergences here and there.

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><p>"<em><strong>Have yourself a merry little Christmas Let your heart be light/From now on/ Our troubles will be out of sight/ Have yourself a merry little Christmas/ Make the Yuletide gay/ From now on/ Our troubles will be miles away..." ****Hugh Martin**** and Ralph Blane"Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"**_

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><p><span>6 days until Christmas<span>

Rose wakes to the sound of...well...that's just it; it's too quiet. She cracks open her eyes to snow drifting across the windowpane between the blinds. She sits up slowly, gathering the sheets up and leans back against his headboard.

She should get up. She should shower. She should get to work. Rose's full of shoulds this morning but the covers are warm still and there's the lullaby of snow drown them out. The clocks on the walls thrum almost in time with the sound of the coffeemaker making it's final few roars and Monroe padding around downstairs. It's almost enough to put her back to sleep. That is until she hears him come up the stairs. He pauses in the doorway, "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Kinda," she shrugs, pulling her hair up and out of her face. "But I should get up anyway. If the roads aren't bad, I should head to the shop..." She glances over at him to see him leaning against the doorframe, smiling. "What?"

He shakes his head, smiling wider.

"What?" She asks again.

"It's just nice to see you there. Happy...relaxed."

"You mean in your bed, wearing almost nothing?" She tilts her chin up for a kiss as he walks over and settles against her drawn up knees, hands settling on either side of her waist. She'd been back in town for a week and they fell into place as though nothing had interrupted them.

"Something like that." He smiles, kissing her once. "Good morning."

"Good morning." She breathes back. "What time is it even?"

"Almost eight."

"No..." She sighs and runs her hands up his arms to try to pull him in farther. "No... no," she kisses him just under his jaw. "It's too early and it's cold and the roads are bad..." She kisses him again and lets her fingers tangle through his hair. "Let's go back to bed..."

"You don't even know if the roads are bad," he murmurs back, leaning into her pull for just a moment longer than he should have.

"_Leibling_, this is Portland and there are literally two snow plows in the whole city." She replies with a grin. "Of course the roads are terrible." But he kisses her back.

He laughs. "As much as I would like to, can't. Just got a big order in and I've got to get to work..."

"So, I'm a distraction?" She teases.

"No...well, yes...but," he hands her phone over. "It's been going crazy."

"Crap, I forgot I left it down there." She flicks through the screen to see a voicemail flashing. Her heart leaps into her throat, her hand to her mouth at the caller ID.

"What's wrong? Should I have left it?"

"No," she grabs his hand. "No, it's a voicemail from...my mom."

"I thought you didn't have contact with them?"

"We email mostly; Mom and me. Just enough so she knows I'm alive. I haven't actually exchanged words with DeEtta, verbal or digital, in seven years."

"Rose–"

"I should listen to what she has to say, shouldn't I? I mean she made the effort this time..." She looks up at him. "And it wasn't DeEtta..."

"You should do what you want," he replies. " There's coffee downstairs whenever you're ready." He kisses his forehead.

Rose sits back against the headboard and turns it on. "Hi Rosie," her mother's voice cracks a little over the connection. "Now that you're back in Oregon, DeEtta and I were wondering if you'd want to come down for Christmas. It's been so long I thought...well, I thought we would visit your Dad. Anyway, call me back...and let me know...I'd- I mean we'd like to see you." Her mother draws in a deep breath. "Please, honey, call me back..."

Rose turns off the phone and presses the edge of it to her chin in thought for a moment. She can't even remember the last time she was in a room with her whole family after her father died. After while ,the dark pit the Jay left her in was just easier than their accusatory stares and biting judgment. And it was DeEtta that was the ringing voice: "I can't believe how selfish you are! Don't you care about mom?! And what all this worry is doing to her? Don't you care about anyone but you?"

In a fit of stupid courage, she brings up her mom's information and her thumb hovers over the button.

Even now, the guilt pours over her in waves deep enough to drown in but she just won't. She remembers though, the last time she saw her mother- slumped against the cold hospital wall, head in her hands. And Rose knew she was too late to say goodbye to her father.

She stood down the hallway from her mother; doctors and nurses passing between them as though neither existed. And the chasm that had been growing since she started sneaking out, widened so far Rose couldn't cross it. She couldn't go to her mother. She didn't deserve to. So she turned and ran as far away as fast as she could. The voicemails, which before were regular and increasing in worry, became sporadic until the line went completely dead between them.

And now she could, if not undo then at least, try to repair the damage she wrought. She could say the words she should have said so long ago: "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

In the end, she clicks out of the call and goes down stairs.

He's still reading the paper, clearly waiting for her. She stops suddenly, at the sight of piles and piles of boxes in the living room that wasn't there last night. Or at least that she could remember. To be totally honest, she hadn't been paying that much attention to the living room, noticing only that Nick was not around and wouldn't be for the next twenty-four hours.

"So?" Monroe greets her.

"They want me to come for Christmas. Well, Mom does, I don't really know about DeEtta."

"That's...great?" he tries, but notices her frown.

She shrugs. "Christmas isn't my thing."

"So, you're not going?"

She shrugs again. "I hate Christmas, so I doubt I'm going to be much fun." She insists. She glances in the living room. "You wanna explain the boxes?"

"That's all Christmas stuff. I thought maybe we could put it up together..." He grimaces. "That's is until I found out you hate Christmas...just now..."

She hangs her head. "It's...sort of like Paris. After my dad got sick, I couldn't look at either of my parents. I picked the wrong people and I just couldn't watch my dad..." She shakes her head. "It didn't matter because he died on Christmas day. And I did not handle it well... so it's not necessarily 'the most wonderful time of the year' for me. It's better if I just go into hibernation."

"Rose, look, I'm sorry."

"You didn't know,' she breathes. "But I'm going to head out. It's just going to be one of those days, I can feel it." She kisses his cheek.

"You're sure you're not mad?" he catches her by the wrist as she goes to leave.

"Not at you." She assures him.

* * *

><p><span>4 Days until Christmas<span>

Despite her dirge-like cough, Malena rockets around the shop like usual. Until she skids to a sudden stop in front of Rose, head tilted to one side and wonders, "Where's Monroe?"

"He has his own work, Kiddo." Rose replies, smiling, as she measures out a generous amount of rosehips to add to Malena's new batch of tea. "He'll still come in and help me out but not all the time."

Malena flings her head back in exasperation and makes a sound like a deflating balloon before schlumping around the shop in disappointment.

"Looks like I've been replaced in her affections," Rose jokes with Amelia.

Amelia laughs. "Malena's going through this phase where she's fascinated with Egyptian Mythology. Like, it's all she wants to read about, talk about."

"She's eight."

Amelia shrugs. "I don't know. Ever since we did a unit on the ancient civilizations, she's been all about this god and that god and this goddess. "

"Does she know who the gods actually were?"

"Not yet, Garrett and I thought we'd wait until she was a little older, gone through the change and all, before we told her the real stories. " Amelia sighs. "But it gets her to read more, so I'm all for it. And someone else besides me wants to talk about different mythologies with her, so I'm glad." Amelia glances over at her daughter. "She's such a weird kid."

"I am not!" Malena retorts. "I'm smart! Monroe said so."

"Of course you're smart, Baby!" Amelia laughs. "But you are a little strange"

"What else did Monroe tell you?" Rose wonders as Malena wanders back to them.

"He told me that I would like reading stories about Loki and Thor and Frigga. They're Vikings! And Loki turns into a horse!"

Rose giggles, chancing a glance at Amelia.

"Well, he does!" Malena rolls her eyes.

"I'll tell Monroe that you were missing him, okay?" Rose promises.

"Thank you." Malena coughs into her elbow and disappears around another bookshelf.

Amelia taps Rose's hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah...just family stuff, you know?"

"It's good you're back in time to spend Christmas with your family." Amelia says quietly. "I hate to think that I might have to spend a Christmas without her at any age." She nods toward Malena who's fascinated by a jar that's caught the rare winter sun and the pattern its content makes on the floor. "Even when she's twenty and got her own life."

"Miss Rosie, what did you ask Santa for?" Malena wonders as her mother helps her into her coat.

"Oh Kiddo, Santa only brings presents for kids. Not for grown ups."

Malena's brow furrows in confusion. "Santa brings presents for Mommy and Daddy every year."

"Well maybe I've been on the naughty list?"

Malena laughs as her mother sets her jaunty red cap on her head. "That's so silly, Miss Rosie. You couldn't be on the naughty list, you're good."

She smiles. "Thanks, Kiddo. Merry Christmas." She waves as they leave. As soon as they're gone, Rose digs her out her phone. With Malena's words ringing in her ears. Rose dials her mother's number. But it didn't stop her from praying that it would go to voicemail.

"Hello?"

No luck apparently.

"Hi, Mom...it's Rosie." She winces at her use of her childhood name.

"Rosie," her mother echoes. "Oh, I thought maybe you wouldn't call back."

"Sorry, I just wanted to be sure that I could come. I won't be able to be there until Christmas Eve...if that's okay."

"Anytime would be good, honey. Anytime."

* * *

><p><span>1 Day before Christmas<span>

The house is still butter yellow even after all these years, she notes from sitting in the driveway. The bottle of wine sits in the seat next to her and she's tempted to take a few swigs for courage. But it won't help, and would only make everything worse.

Monroe offered to come along when she told him the night after Malena's visit. "I could be a buffer, you know, keep everyone from killing each other."

She poured more wine in her glass. "As much as I would love that, this is something I have to do myself. Besides, DeEtta had this habit to scare off all my boyfriends. She can be..."

"Intense?"

"A bitch. I guess it sort of goes with being the oldest."

He stopped and looked over at her. "So...boyfriend?"

Rose grinned up at him. "All of that and that's the only thing you can glean from it?" She ran her hands up to his face to pulled him down for a kiss.

"Well, it's important," he replies quietly.

"Fine but if you ever call me 'babe', remember that I know ten ways to kill you with a popsicle stick."

"Only ten?"

She shrugs. "Alexander knows twenty but he would only teach me ten."

Just as she's about to ring the doorbell, the door opens.

"Rosie..." Her mother breathes. "I thought I heard a car."

Her mothers face is line and paper pale in the sunshine. There are thick streaks of silver shot through her auburn bob. If Rose isn't mistaken, she's a few inches shorter than Rose remembers. She keeps her hands folded in front of her and Rose notices how swollen her knuckles are and how stiffly her mother holds them.

"Hi Mom," Rose breathes out, unable to really believe this moment is actually here. _Say it_, she thinks. _Say it now before you chicken out._

Her mother smiles. "You have perfect timing. We're getting ready to eat."

Rose pulls the bottle of red out of her bag. "I guess I do."

Her mother leads her inside her childhood home, asking "Where'd you get it?"

"Paris. When I was there last month." Rose replies, taking it all in. As they walk from foyer to living room, Rose stops suddenly in the middle of the room, happy to see no Christmas decorations and a little glad she's not the only one who can't stand the sight of them. Nothing else has changed. The gauzy curtains on the window still hang, gone a little yellow with age and sun exposure. The books haven't even changed order in the years since she left. But there are new knick-knacks here and there. Photos of her mother and sister at the beach, in San Francisco. Her heart hammers against her ribs at the sight of her parent' wedding photo staring back at her.

On top of the bookshelf sits a watch she had not seen in years. And beneath it a single circle of gold; her father's wedding band.

"It doesn't work anymore." Her mother notices her staring. "Now, it's just become a part of the room."

"I know someone who can fix it for you." Rose offers. "If you want."

Her mother shakes her head. "Is it someone you met in Paris?"

"Paris?" Her sister's voice echoes through the hallway. When they get to the kitchen, DeEtta's orchestrating at least four pots like always. DeEtta got all the cooking genes anyway. She stands in the center of the kitchen, hand on hip, a wooden spoon in the other, her blonde hair pulled out of her face in a messy top bun. "Hey Rosie."

"Hey Dee, " she calls back.

"It's been a long time." DeEtta goes to the biggest pot and pours its contents into a collider in the sink. "Mom said you took over the business. How is it?"

Rose flips her coat off. "It's good, I guess. Lots of lists." _So far, so good._

DeEtta turns from her task and nods. "Help Mom with the wine."

Rose finds her mother holding the cork and grimacing. "Here, Mom." Rose plucks it from her mother's stiff fingers. "How are your hands?"

"There are good days and bad days." Her mother shrugs as Rose pops the cork. "My knees have gotten worse though. I do mostly lecturing now at the community center. From a chair." She grins but Rose can see she misses it.

They grew up on stories of their mother on her trusty bike on the streets of Amsterdam, flitting from one home birth to the next; even the day she almost ran other their father, their mother didn't stop for more than a moment or two to be sure she hadn't killed him on accident.

"So she dashed off and I had to track her down through every channel I could find." Their father used to laugh. "All my friends thought I was crazy, chasing after a girl who nearly killed me. But I knew."

She had delivered more babies than they could count on their fingers and toes combined, and more still when their parents (plus five year old DeEtta) returned to the states. But now with the Rheumatoid arthritis setting in, her days in the field were over.

"I could have sent you something to help. I could make up-"

"Dinner's ready." DeEtta announces, pushing past Rose balancing several bowls in his hands. "Mom and I always have pasta on Christmas Eve." DeEtta explains.

"It's nice to keep some sort of tradition," their mother sits between the two of them while Rose brings the wine glasses and bottle. "Even if we can't bring ourselves to carry on some of the others."

Dinner isn't so bad. DeEtta stays quiet for the most part while their mother asks about the shop and her life in Portland. But it's not until later when they're cleaning up (really DeEtta and Rose) that their mother asks the dreaded question: "So, are you seeing anyone?"

"Sort of."

DeEtta says nothing and drinks deeply from her glass, as if steeling herself for what's to come next. Rose tries not to blame her. After all, Rose brought home a parade of terrific losers in the past, each one worse the last.

"What's he like?"

"He's nice...a little eccentric," Rose grins to herself. "But he owns his own business and he's been helping me out in the shop a bit here and there. He covered for me when I had to go back to Den Haag."

Her mother smiles. "So do we get to meet him?"

"If you want... I suppose." Rose smiles back. "Though, I guess I should warn you now, he's not a Fuschbau. He's a Blutbad..."

DeEtta snorts into her glass. "Are you serious, Rosie?"

"Yeah, I am. He's a good guy. He's not like the others."

"That's what you said...several times actually." DeEtta chuckles.

"I was wrong before." Rose admits.

"Well, then," DeEtta smirks and takes a swig of the wine. "And it only took you ten years to figure your shit out."

"DeEtta–" their mother starts.

"It did." Rose snaps back. "Not all of us can be as perfect as you are. Some of us make mistakes."

"Just have to keep touching that stove, don't you?" DeEtta snarls.

"I haven't touched the stuff in almost four years," Rose replies. "I worked for the Council, I took on Freddy's store. I've figured things out just fine without you. Is that what makes you so pissy?"

DeEtta stands. "You left us alone...You left us when we needed you! You ran!"

And it's true. She can't say it wasn't because that's exactly what she did. She ran, far and fast and with every intention to be lost. DeEtta standing before her, waiting for the answer; the face of all of Rose's guilt all these years ."What do you want me to do?! Go back in time?" Rose retorts, forgetting that her mother is there. "Because I wish I could. I wish it all the time! I wonder what my life would be like I hadn't run away from the hospital! But, Jesus Christ, Dee, I can't! I can't undo this!"

"Rosealee," Their mother starts calmly, she folds her hands together awkwardly. "Were you there...?"

Rose nods. "Yeah...yeah, I went after you called. But I didn't make it in time. And I– I just couldn't..."

"So you think you can just waltz back into our lives after we dealt with all that?" DeEtta growls, stepping in front of their mother "You think you can come back now after that? Just come prancing back like nothing happened-"

"Dad died!" Rose cried. "Of course something happened!"

"But you couldn't be there then? When we actually needed you?!" DeEtta spat.

"And where would I have fit?!" Rose shoots back. "Where? Listening to you telling me things I already knew? That I fucked up? That I broke everything?!" Rose pushes back from the counter. She grabs her jacket, purse and keys, cursing this whole thing. She stops in the living room, looking back at them. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry." She lets out. "I'm so, so sorry for everything..."

Rose pulls the photograph she's carried all the way from Den Haag out of her bag and sets it beside her parent's wedding photo. She gives the room one last look before heading out the door.

* * *

><p>His house is dark when Rose gets back. The wind's picked up something fierce and all she wants is to be is in bed, in the quiet. She scoots the planter to reveal the spare key, just where he told her it would be, in case she ever needed it.<p>

Nick's still up, hunched over his laptop when she comes in. "Hey...I thought you were staying with your mom for a few days."

" 'Thought' being the operative word here." She growls and removes her coat and shoes.

"Should I even ask how it went?" He wonders. "I mean, Monroe said you hadn't seen them in a while and you might be...edgy."

"It went." She sighs.

"That bad?" he winces.

She nods. "It was stupid. I shouldn't have gone. I should have just..." There aren't any Christmas decorations here either. "What...what happened? I thought-"

Nick shrugs. "Neither of us have been in very festive moods."

"Juliette still hasn't come around?"

"Nope. And Monroe's been moping since you left...so..." Nick throws up his hands. "Merry Christmas to all of us, I guess."

She casts a glance up at the ceiling. "Is Monroe here?" Not that it would matter much either way. She can't go back to her apartment; too many memories.

"Yeah, he went to bed like three hours ago." Nick turns back to her computer. "He's impossible when he mopes. His cooking suffers...a lot."

"I'll do what I can." She promises. She goes to the stairs but stops half way and turns back. She leans over the harsh glow of the computer screen and kisses his cheek. "Merry Christmas Nick."

"Merry Christmas, Rosalee." He replies quietly as she climbs the stairs, pulling off her outer layers the whole way. She slips into his dark room and drops her clothes in a pile by the bed. She climbs in beside him and curls in close. He doesn't twitch until she slips one hand around his waist from behind and settles her face between his shoulder blades. Like before, she tries to match her breathing to his. The steady thud of his heart, soothes her racing one and just as she's about to drop off..."Rose?"

"Mmhh?" She replies.

He exhales. "I thought for a second you were Nick."

"Does Nick come keep you company on nights that I don't stay?" She wonders with a small smile. "Should I be jealous?"

"Well, he is a Grimm after all," he replies.

She presses her cheek to his shoulder. "Ugh, I don't even want to laugh."

"That bad?" his hand creeps up and rests atop hers.

"I just want to lay here with you until my head stops spinning."

"What happened?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know; everything?" He starts to turn over, and she pushes back. "No, don't. If you look at me, I'll probably cry."

"Rose..."

"I'll have to face this, I know. But for tonight," she re-settles her cheek against his shoulder. "I just want to be with you." She squeezes her eyes closed tight and hopes for no nightmares.

* * *

><p><span>Christmas Morning<span>

In the morning, he brings the coffee up to her. When he settles next to her again, half under the covers and leaning against the headboard, she leans against his chest and grips the mug with both hands. "On the one hand, I wish you could have come to meet my mom."

"I told you I would have gone."

"But it was for selfish reasons only."

"Which are?"

"That I've moved on from the rough patch and that I can make respectable choices."

"I'm respectable?"

"_Liebling_, you have a successful business, you own your own house, you're a goddamn vegetarian and you don't spend your weekends binging on Jay, so yeah. Respectable."

"Well, we spend our weekends helping a Grimm. Not so sure that's something to brag about."

"I did not touch that one with a ten foot pole."  
>"So, they didn't believe you when you told them or...? You've gotta give me something more to go on than 'everything.'"<p>

She sighs, head hung low. "DeEtta was...herself. And they way she looked at me. Like I was a stranger. And all the things she was saying..."

He says nothing, just runs his finger up and down over her arm, over the scar on her shoulder.

"She was right, of course. I ran because I wasn't strong enough to handle it. I wasn't there for them when they needed me." She whispers. "It's what I am."

He sets his hand against the back of her head, thumb running through her hair. "It isn't. But maybe trying to spend this much time with your family was too much, too soon?"

She nods.

"You can't expect them to just suddenly see you differently. It's going to take a while." He reasons.

"Yeah, I know."

"And they will. Just give them time."

"Do your parents? Do they...get it?"

He chuckles. "My parents are a horse on an entirely different end of the color spectrum."

She rests her cheek against his shoulder and sighs. "It's Christmas morning, isn't it?"

"It is. What do you usually do?"

"Find the nearest liquor store." It had become a sort in barely tolerable cruelty, getting through this day. Drinking games had suddenly become very good ideas in the week leading up to the day. And usually, she spent it alone, for fear of dragging someone else into her gloom.

He sighs. "I know you don't usually celebrate, but I got you something... before I knew. And I'd hate for it to go to waste."

"No..." she whined. "No, you didn't." But sets her coffee cup on the bedside table, knowing there was no way out of it.

"Aren't you going to fight me on this?"

"I don't fight you on everything." She insists.

One eyebrow rises in doubt. Really? He seemed to say.

"Fine. Yesterday was pretty shitty and you're being nice, so I'll take whatever affection I can get." She retorts as he hands her a small wrapped rectangle. She tears it apart the layers to find a framed picture of the two of them, walking hand in hand, totally absorbed in each other's company. She gaps, trying to place it in her memory.

"It was Nick. He snuck a picture of us at the airport and sent it to me."

Rose runs her thumb only the far edge in silence.

"Look, I know you hate Christmas and all and I just thought that-"

She presses a hand to his mouth. "It's been a very long time since someone gave me a Christmas present."

"So it's good?" he mumbles against her fingertips.

"It's wonderful." She assures him, working hard to keep the tears out of her voice. "Now I just feel like an asshole for not getting you anything."

He slips his arm around her shoulder and pulls her in close. "You're here now, _Liebling_. That's all that matters."

It turns out to be one of her better Christmases; they sit at the little round dining room table, eating Indian take out and throwing bits of naan at each other when they get tipsy on the beer Hank brings with the take out. No one actually says the "C" word, or talks about family or lack thereof. No one acknowledges the time of year or season, or that fact that the rain's returned and it's turned all the snow to slush. Inside, it's warm and full of laughter. Rose leans her warm cheek against Monroe's shoulder; his hand never leaves her knee. As if to remind her that she is wanted and needed here, whatever else may have transpired. It's enough to make her want to cry for a different reason all together.

* * *

><p><span>2 days after Christmas<span>

"...And they never stay in a hotel," Monroe complains as he helps her go through all of her loose-leaf tea ingredients. "They always stay with me and, you know, Nick is there and...I just really don't want to have Nick kill my parents." He sighs.

"I don't know if I'm the best person to ask for advice on handling parents," Rose replies. "As you could tell by my total meltdown. But Nick and your parents in the same house does not sound like a great idea." She runs her hand across his shoulders as she passes him by. "Maybe try to hold them off until we get this whole Nick/Juliette debacle figured out?"

He shrugs. "I can try."

"Give me two seconds, I need to grab a few things from the back." She calls out as she disappears. As she's gathering her lists of orders to fill, she hears the bell above the door chime. And Monroe sticks his head in the door a few moments later, panic written all over his face. "What's up?"

"Um...So...Your Mom and sister are asking for you."

"What? Like on the phone?" She grabs a beaker from the cabinet for the first order.

"No...as in they're in the shop...right now."

Rose sets the beaker back down on the counter. "Right now right now?"

"Yeah, right now."

She takes a deep breath to steady herself. And follows him back out to the front. DeEtta and their mother stand in the center of shop, waiting. "Hi Mom..." she waves. "DeEtta. I didn't know you were coming."

"I couldn't leave things as they were," her mother starts, holding her hands out to Rose.

Rose shakes her head. "I-I'm so sorry, Mom. About how I ruined everything."

She presses her hands to Rose's cheek. "Oh, Sweetheart. You didn't ruin things. I missed you...so much." She loops her arms around Rose before she has the chance to run again. "We were so worried about you. We were so scared..."

Rose rests her forehead against her mother's collarbone, like she used when she was young. She hugs her mother as hard as she dares, taking in the scent of her perfume that she hasn't smelled in years. "I was scared too." Rose admits in a small voice.

"Is this him?" DeEtta chimes in suddenly.

Rose straightens up and wipes her eyes. She turns to the counter, smiling at Monroe. "Yeah. It's him. De, Mom, this is Monroe, my...boyfriend. Monroe, this is my sister DeEtta and my mom."

As he comes around the corner to shake both of their hands, DeEtta scowls as she's always done. "It's nice to meet you finally." He tells her.

"Yeah," her eyes narrow, taking him in. "You too."

He moves on to her mother without another thought. "Rose told us that you own your own business." Thank God for her mother, Rose thinks as Monroe launches into his job with the usual amount of enthusiasm. She can't help but smile as her mother drinks in every word, laughs in all the right places.

DeEtta grabs Rose's arm and motions to the door. "Give us a second," She excuses them and follows DeEtta out the door. They duck under the eaves, out of the rain as DeEtta digs through her purse.

"What is this about?" Rose demands while DeEtta emerges with a pack of secret cigarettes and a lighter. "I thought you quit."

DeEtta pulls one out and lights it. "God, I've been waiting for that for like the last two days." She offers it to Rose, like she used to when Rose was fifteen, and pretended not to notice their ten-year age gap. "Mom's been beside herself."

Rose takes a pull, she shouldn't but it's almost a month since the last one. "I am sorry, you know. I really am. And I wish I could change it."  
>DeEtta smiles softly. "Yeah, I know. I can see it. I just..." She shrugs. "God, Rose. When you fuck up, it's pretty epic-" Just as Rose is about to throw the cigarette to the ground in protest, DeEtta wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "I guess you learned it from me."<p>

And that's the closest thing to an apology she's ever going to get, so Rose hands the cigarette back over. She'll take what she can get.

"He's a complete nerd, you know. Like a complete and total nerd. And sooo _Portland_...Where the fuck did you find him?"

"Where'd you think, dummy?" Rose reverts to the name they used to call each other. "Here. And I happen to like that he's nerdy."

DeEtta takes a short inhale and lets it out again. "You can't have kids with him, Rosie. Jesus!"

"Why the fuck not?" Rose hisses right back. "Don't tell me it's because of that purity shit. You know Uncle Henry was a Jagerbar."

"No, I'm not talking about that, dummy."

"Then what?" Rose snatches the cigarette back from her sister. "Because he's the best guy I ever dated and Mom already likes him and he-"

"Have you seen the size of his head? Good God, Rosie! If you have one of his kids you'll be in labor for weeks trying to push that baby's head out of your ho-ha!"  
>Rose stares at her sister for a moment and then dissolves into a fit of giggles, barely able to hold the lit cigarette straight. "Oh my God, please! Please, if you ever say that in front of Mom, please record it so I can see her face when you say 'ho-ha' to her!"<p>

"It's true though," DeEtta insists.

Rose sucks down another drag to calm down.

"Oh...my God..." DeEtta steals it back. "You're serious about this guy; you _want_ to have his babies!"

"Will you shut up!?" Rose smacks her sister's arm, trying to hush her. "We haven't even said 'I love you' to each other yet, let alone talked about babies!"

DeEtta grins. "Oh but he loves you." She sing songs

Rose rolls her eyes.

"Has he seen you in the morning before your coffee? Or when you eat Chinese takeout? Because it's not pretty. Or has he seen you when you talk to yourself? Because if he has and you two are still together, pretty sure it's because he loves you."

Rose flicks ash off the end of the cigarette. "Does it even matter if_ I _love him?"

"Of course it does, Rosie..." DeEtta replies in an oddly reassuring way. "Do you?"

She shrugs. "I might. I...Jesus Dee, sometimes I feel like I don't know what word even means."

"Hey," DeEtta drops the cigarette and stamps it beneath her boot. "We maybe a broken, fucked up family or whatever...But we loved each other then and we love each other now. You know what it means." She wraps Rose up in a fierce hug. "You may be a dummy, but you're not stupid."

"Thanks...I guess." Rose replies. "We should go back inside, though. They might be missing us."

DeEtta waves dismissively. "Please, they haven't even noticed. But before we go..." she casts glances on either side of her. "How is he?" She wonders.

"You met him..." Rose complains. "What do you think?"

"No, I mean–_How _is _he_?" The Calvert family smirk (as their father called it) lights across DeEtta's face. And it dawns on her.

"I am not answering that question!" Rose insists. "It is so none of your business!"

"Oh come on! I'm just curious! I've never been with anyone besides a Fuschbau!"

"SHUT UP, DEE!"

They end up staying the night with Rose; while their mother goes to bed early, Rose and DeEtta drink a bottle of wine and smoke a few more contraband cigarette out of her living room window and talk (mostly argue). Nothing is decided or fixed but when they leave in the morning, Rose is actually sad to see them go. When she returns to her bedroom, head aching from all that wine, she flops onto her bed and notices something that wasn't there yesterday.

Her father's non-working watch sits beside her phone charger and bowl for rings and other assorted jewelry. There's no note or anything but Rose likes the way it looks.

* * *

><p>Fun note: I channeled a lot of myself into DeEtta, so I apologize for all the cursing.<p>

So, the next arc is going to be a two-parter (both probably pretty long) and we get to dive back into the world of Wesen politics then another oneshot after that!

R&R?


	8. Love alters not

WHOOO...SEASON 3 FINALE

So I thought I would bring you the next installment. Sorry it took so long. My real life is really getting crazy.

But here we are with many...many time jumps. I was going to do this in two parts and then I realized it wasn't going to work so I made it a one shot instead.

Disclaimer; I own nothing at all.

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>..Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks**__**Within his bending sickle's compass come;/ Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,**__**/ **__**But bears it out even to the edge of doom./ If this be error and upon me proved,**__**/ **__**I never writ, nor no man ever loved."~ **__**William Shakespeare "Sonnet 116"**_

* * *

><p>She swears she didn't plan any of it, at least she does to Nick and Monroe, later when they ask. But the whole sad, brooding vibe that Nick had been giving off since Christmas was really starting to wear on her. She did it so she didn't end up killing Nick so she could get five minutes alone with Monroe.<p>

There are certain skills that you retired when you moved from one job to another. But there were some, Rose realized, that came in handier in civilian life. She ferreted out where the clinic was that Juliette worked, saying that she needed a recommendation for a friend. It was easy, finding people. She calculated how many coffee shops were in walking distance from the clinic. And then it was only a matter of time before she was greeted with a "You're Rosalee, right?" midway through her latte at Extracto on Killingsworth.

Rose glances up from her book, pretending to be surprised. "Juliette? How are you?"

"I'm better, not so cluttered, you know?" She taps her temple with her free hand. "Up here."

"So things are coming back?"

"Bit by bit, yeah. Do you mind if I sit?"

"By all means."

Juliette smiles. "I actually hoped I'd run in into you or Monroe."

"Oh?"

"There..." She grasps for the right words. "There a few questions I have."

"About what?"

"I remembered the night I went into the coma and..." Juliette frowns. "He brought me to Monroe's and they were going to show me something...or tell me something or..."

"That's progress, at least. Didn't you want to talk to Nick about it?"

"No...no. There are some things that aren't adding up...some things that he's been keeping from me."

Rose sighs. "Maybe he just wasn't ready to tell you? Maybe he was trying to find the right time...?"

"Maybe...but I just-" Juliette shrugs and takes a nice long pull from her coffee cup. "I remember that he took me to Monroe's on the night of and." She shakes her head. "I just..."

Rose grits her teeth, knowing exactly what Nick was going to ask and how much Monroe would hate doing it. Then again, so would she. But watching Juliette stumbling around like this was working so hard on this weird new compassion she'd unearthed in the last few months. "I'll talk to Monroe."

Juliette squints and then her face splits into a huge grin. "Oh...I see. I sort of figured...You guys are cute."

"Thanks...I guess." It's so odd to say; it's been a long time since she's had someone to 'girl talk' with.

"But you'll talk to him? To Monroe?"

Rose grins. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

><p>Rose promises herself ten more minutes and then back to work, but his hand moves down to her hip and his fingers press into her skin under her blouse as he pulls her to him and settles her on his lap. Maybe fifteen. And just like that, all the books stacked around her couch are long forgotten, and the research she was conducting fading away. In the back of her head, she knows she shouldn't have invited him over if she had work to do. This is what happens when they sit in too close proximity, even if he was just offering commentary and generally filling the role of sounding board. That is until she hit the whole-talking-to-herself part. And then he kissed her because he thought it was adorable. Okay, maybe twenty.<p>

"Ugh, you have to stop that," she murmurs but she presses against him anyway, teasing.

"Stop what?" He kisses her again just under her jaw and then down her neck. He always had read her like an open book; this was no different. He grins wolfishly up at her.

"That..." she groans. "You make me greedy."

"How do you figure that?"

She presses her fingers to his neck, feeling his pulse race under her skin. He looks at her like she's the only person in the world and she could say it now. That she's happy with her life here; she's happy he's around. But that she's happiest when they're together; talking, not talking, eating, sleeping, whatever. But instead, she says the other true thing that's been weighing on her; "It always feels like there's never enough time. And that I have to steal it whenever I can."

He grins, placing his hands on either side of her face. "We have plenty of time." He promises. "As long as you want."

She smiles.

"But I know what you mean though; I'm not used to this much good all at once either." He pushes a few loose strands from her cheek.

"Feels a little too good to be true?"

"Yeah," he pulls her in again. "A little bit."

"You're doing it again." She mutters, smiling.

"Maybe that was the plan," he replies.

"_Archloch,_*" she growls just before he cuts her off with a kiss. She melts into him, threading her arms around his neck.

"Rose, " he murmurs against her mouth.

She kisses him quiet again. If he wants to distract her from her work, he doesn't get to stop half way through.

"Rose, I–"

And then his phone starts to ring out on her coffee table. "_Ficken Sie Verkohlen von mir_?*" She mutters in his ear. "I bet you ten bucks it's Nick."

Clutching her to him still, he reaches for it and gives her a smile. "Hey dude. What's up?"

Rose's close enough to hear Nick's voice through the receiver. "Are you with Rosalee?"

"Yeah, I'm putting you on speaker." He clicks it and holds it up to Rose.

"Hi Nick," she sighs.

"Do either of you know anything about a wesen that sets people on fire?" He asks without preamble. "Besides a daemonfeuer?"

They glance at each other and wince. "None that I ever want to come across." Rose insists. "What's up?"

"We just got a call in from a unit in Salem. Apparently there was a bonfire way out in the sticks...only it wasn't brush they were burning. It was people. Two of them."

"So why'd they call you?"

He laughs. "Apparently my reputation for the 'weird ones' has preceded me."

"Yeah, good luck with that one, dude." Monroe replies, running his hand down Rose's back.

"So, I guess it's another night in the trailer." Nick groans. "Awesome."

Rose bites lower lip. "Do...you know who the people in the fire were?"

"All we can tell so far is that it was a man and woman. We're still waiting for the M.E. to get back to us on whether or not they can get a hit off dental records to get ids. Some of the other remains look to be...eaten."

Monroe's hand stills on her back as the morbid situation dawns on both of them.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, " Rose sighs. "It just sounds like..." She looks over at Monroe and frowns. "PWO."

"_Purewelt Orden_," Monroe replies, working hard to keep his voice even. "They don't really approve of wesen...'mixing .'"

"Mixing?" Nick wonders. "You mean..."

"Like us," Rose confirms in a quiet voice, keeping her gaze on the phone.

"So this is wesen on wesen?"

Rose nods. "If it is, there will probably other members of these families that will have been murder or are missing."

"And does this happen often?"

"It goes in and out of fashion, like everything else." Rose murmurs. "It's...it's barbaric."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Nick promises. "But I've got to hit the hay, we're due in Salem at nine o'clock."

"Will you call us later? To let us know?" Rose wonders. "And be careful..."

"I will," Nick promises. "Thanks for your help."

Rose sighs against Monroe's shoulder and sits beside him. "Talk about killing the mood."

"Not funny."

"I wasn't trying to be." She insists. "You know if it really is them, I'm going to have to alert the Council. They might have to send someone...or several some ones."

"Would I finally get to meet the mysterious Alexander?"

She shrugs. "You might. But we have other fish to fry." She taps his knee in a nervous pattern. "I saw Juliette today... bumped into her. And, someone's going to have to tell her." Rose says quietly. "She thought she was going crazy and now...she knows something's up. She's known for a while."

"Says the person who didn't want to tell Hank." He shoots back.

"Well, Juliette doesn't have access to a gun." She retorts and then winces. "Sorry, sorry." She places her hand on his. "I just sort of feel bad for her...and Nick."

He sighs. "Yeah, I do too. But should we really be meddling?"

"You're the one who took him in, so yeah. Besides, as much as I like Nick and all, I'm really tired of his moping. And if he can't do anything about it, I will."

He laughs, settling his arm around her. "I never would have picked you for a matchmaker."  
>"Is it really matchmaking if they've already been together?" She wonders. "She just wants to talk to you. What harm could it do?"<p>

"There's no ulterior motive here?" He checks.

"Well maybe..." she shrugs.

"What's it gonna cost me?"

"It's not what it'll cost, it's about what we'll gain." She grins. "Apparently if Nick isn't getting any, neither is any one else. So, that has to stop."

* * *

><p>*Asshole<p>

*Are you fucking kidding me?

* * *

><p>It's the staring that's the worst, Rose decides. But at least Juliette's not running for the door. She asked for it, she begged Monroe to tell her and he brought her to the shop. She's here taking in all in with wide unblinking eyes. She says nothing; her lips stay pressed together in suppression of what...exactly? A shriek? A scream?<p>

Rose yanks it back. "See?" She murmurs. "Just me...sort of."

Juliette talks two steps back from the table, glances up at her and then takes another step back. "So...that was a woge? And you're a Fuschbau?"

Rose only nods.

Juliette turns to Monroe. "Are you a Fuschbau too?"

"Um...no." He glances over at Rose. She reaches out and grips his arm in support. "No I'm not. But I take a little more getting used to."

"I can handle whatever you've got." Juliette assures him and Rose wants to hug her.

He nods. "Okay..." he rolls his shoulders. "Just remember that it's still me, what ever you see."

"I will." Juliette promises.

He woges and Juliette takes three or four steps back this time. But he pulls it back, hands up in surrender. "Just me."

Juliette nods, standing perfectly still in the middle of the room. "So, this is what Nick sees...Fuschbau and..." she glances to Monroe for the name.

"Blutbad."

"And Blutbad and...I can't see them unless they want to be seen? How many wesen are there?"

Rose shrugs. "It's hard to tell. We don't necessarily like to...flaunt our other faces...But Portland has one of the largest populations in the Pacific Northwest."

"So, there are people that I've known my whole life who are wesen and I wouldn't know?"

"Not unless they told you." Monroe said. "You okay?"

Her eyes go unfocused as she nods silently.

"Don't feel like...you know, your brain's melting at all or anything? Not going to pass out again? Feeling coma-y at all?"

"No." Juliette murmurs. "No, I think I'll be okay. But um...I have to talk to Nick. Where is he?"

"In Salem for the day." Rose replies, smiling. "But he should be back soon. You should call him."

"I will." Juliette smiles back, heading for the door. "And...thank you. For telling me. I don't understand everything that's going on here but I'm so...grateful."

"Juliette..." Rose calls out. "Before you go, do you maybe want to get coffee on Friday? Just to talk?"

"Yeah." Juliette's smile lights up even more. "Yeah. Extracto at ten?"

Rose nods as Juliette slips out the door. She looks up at Monroe and smiles. "I do believe that I just got us a Nick-free night."

"Are you sure about that?" He wonders.

"_Leibling,_ people are easy, I've told you that. You just have to figure out what they want."

"And what do you want?" He wonders, stepping closer.

"To have a night with you," she grips his hand. "And a morning, uninterrupted." She grins.

"I think I could swing that."

* * *

><p>Rose wakes suddenly in the middle of the night. The dream that woke her fades entirely. But it's quiet, quieter than her apartment, even with the clocks on the walls, his breathing on her shoulder. Stretching far enough to reach the bedside time where her phone, wristwatch and necklace wait, she notices that there are no missed calls, no texts.<p>

Smiling to herself, Rose settles back down, turning over face him. With a light finger, she traces the freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. Even asleep, he leans into her touch. "Why'd you pick me?" She wonders quietly, her voice barely audible even to herself. "Of all the people, why'd you pick me?"

Though, she supposes, the same could be asked of her: why, of all people, did she pick him? Why did she pick a vegetarian Blutbad who played cello (which she had yet to hear) and fixed clocks for a living? She'd found her fair share of unworthy men whose names she couldn't remember, blurred from years of jay and simply the passing of time.

Maybe it was his quiet acceptance of who had been, how he asked no questions beyond what was necessary. Maybe it was that he was steady and patient (well, they hadn't been very patient earlier). Maybe it was those scars that no one else saw. Maybe it was because he expected nothing more from her than what she was. It doesn't matter though, she knows. She's beyond the why now.

She can't remember the last time she trusted anyone else like this, to hold her secrets and know they weren't going anywhere. Even with Ian, everything was about business and arrangements were always made in secret. There were false names and dark alley meetings and things that were starting to fade from her memory entirely. She doesn't miss them; she needs room to store all new ones. With him. He shifts under her hand and pulls her in closer, not wanting her to be very far.

She yawns, tucks her head under his chin and tries to shut off, all the way while thinking that the last time she told someone she was in love with them, things deteriorated so fast, she almost missed him vanishing from her life. But it doesn't feel the same this time around; there's no ifs, ands or buts about it. No in or out, just solidly and suddenly there.

The next thing she realizes is the alarm going off. Groaning, she winds her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his collarbone to avoid the sound. "I thought we were going to sleep in!" she whines.

"We were..." he grunts and reaches blindly for his phone. "Someone's calling me..." He sits up and sighs. "Well, we got an evening. Here goes the morning." She closes her eyes in annoyance.

"This close..." she mutters.

"What is it you said last night? '_Leibling,_ people are easy, I've told you that.'

"Nick's not normal 'people.' He's a Grimm."

He rolls his eyes. "Dude. Boundaries." Monroe growls into the phone. "What? No...no, say it again; I haven't had any coffee yet..." He's so quiet for a moment that Rose drifts back to sleep.

"Rose...Rose, we gotta get up."  
>"No." she insists. "No, we don't. Nick is a grown up; he can take care of it himself."<p>

"Not this time. Big trouble."

Rose sits up, pulling the sheet with her. "How big are we talking?"

"How does big does 'violent mind control victims' sound?"

"A welcome break from Hexenbiest shenanigans."

She's not exactly thrilled to have a chubby tow truck mechanic sprawled across her back room cot first thing on her day off. Then again, trying to stop a Royal-backed revolution isn't very high on her priority list.

"This is really bad," he says as soon as Nick and Hank clear out. "Like Council bad."

She shakes her head as she mixes "They won't interfere. There's an unspoken truce between them; the Royals keep to their business and the Council does the same. They aren't a military; they keep the status quo."

"And this is the status quo?" He gestures to the man handcuffed to the bed.

"If they went after every Royal doing something shady, there wouldn't be an end. It'd attract too much attention."

He crosses his arms over his chest. "I don't like this."

"It's from the Royals, what's there to like?" She asks and stretches on her tiptoes to grab at a jar. "Can you grab the Piqure-gigantesque from the case? All three solutions are ready after this."

He handles it gingerly, as if it burns at the touch, and inspects it from every angle. "This thing is terrifying..."

She laughs. "When we were little, De used to say that if we were bad, Dad would use it on us."

"Your sister is terrifying, by the way."

"Beyond the usual? Can you pour the green solution in this vial?"

"Sure. Oh, when they came a few days after Christmas and before you took them home, she told me that if I broke your heart...she'd kill me."

Rose grins. "That sounds like De." She looks up at him. "It's a good thing you won't then, isn't it?"

He turns to her, smiling. "It is."

She leans forward into him to steal a kiss and lingers there a moment longer than she should before going back to work.

"Speaking of which, I made reservations for tomorrow at Quandry...just saying."

"What's the occasion?"

"Well...it's Valentine's Day...or it will be."

She grins. "I didn't realize. Haven't celebrated it very often in the last few years. It'll be fun."

There's a moan from the bed and she loads the last of vials into the Piqure-gigantesque. "Why did we ever agree to be friends with a Grimm?" He wonders with a sigh.

"_You_ jumped out your window to tackle him, remember?" She replies. "And to think I gave up taking out drug kingpins for this."

The tow truck mechanic rolls onto the floor, with a yell, before he smashes her bedside table and lamp.

"Well, this is just so much safer. Besides, think of the job security."

The mechanic gives a loud yell and rushes at them. With one punch from Monroe, the mechanic is back on the floor, slightly growling. Rose sticks all three needles in his side until he goes completely still.

She hoists it over her shoulder. "So much fun." She groans and goes back to the table to empty the vials.

"Is he still alive?" Monroe wonders, peering over him. "He's twitching."

"It means it's working on the nervous system, which is exactly what we want."

What they didn't count on was the twenty or so odd 'zombies' running amok through the shipping yard with Juliette screaming for Nick the whole while. Rose and Monroe dive into the truck and herd Juliette the best they can.

"So can I make an addendum to what I said earlier?" Rose wonders as the 'zombies' slam into the truck.

"What?" Monroe jiggles with the keys.

"This is really bad. Like..." She swallows hard. "Resistance bad?"

He puts the truck in gear and tries to not run over people as he maneuvers through them. Meanwhile, they can hear Juliette talking to Hank, asking him to meet them at the shop. They pull out onto the main road and everyone takes a small sigh of relief. Rose leaves her hand on Monroe's wrist knowing, what she needs to do next.

Once they get back to the shop and fill in Hank, who's brought the Captain along, they disappear in the back room for a moment. Everything is as bad as they feared, the Captain's brother, who has been sending them all manner of 'fun' in the last few months is in the process of taking Nick with him as a souvenir.

"Are you serious?" He asks. "The Resistance?"

"We don't have a lot of options here! Look, they're taking him to the airport and we still have twenty odd 'zombies' to deal with. If we let Erik take him, we could lose him. And I mean forever. Because once the Royals have you..." She shakes her head. "You don't come back."

"Rose, you said yourself that you didn't want to and...and this is the Resistance, we're talking about."

"I know what I said." She pulls out the card with Meisner's number. "I know but Nick's in trouble..." She sighs. "He'd do the same for us."

He closes his eyes briefly. "Yeah...I know. I know. "

"It's a stepping stone." She reassures him. "I'll figure a way out...I always do."

"Rose..." His hand on hers grips hard. She looks up from Meisner's number on the paint chip and sees only fear.

"Do you trust me?" She asks quietly. "Because I need to know that you do. I know I said that I wanted out and that I didn't want to be in the middle anymore but...I don't see any other way."

He closes his eyes briefly before nodding. "I do. I trust you."

She stands up on her tiptoes to kiss him, hard. She cradles his face in her hands and only breaks away when she has to breathe again. "Good. Now, keep them busy for a bit while I call Meisner. The Captain especially. "

He nods, but kisses her once, chastely. "No exit points." He murmurs to her as he pulls away.

"No exit points," she promises right back as he disappears through the door.

Sighing, she dials the number and waits through three rings to hear the gruff "_Ja?"_ that she didn't know she missed.

"Herr Mesiner?" She starts. "It's Calvert."

"So good of you to finally call," he chuckles in German. "I'd hoped that Inez had done her job and convinced you when you returned to Portland."

"No, she didn't. If you're going to teach your agents to use emotional blackmail, you'd better tell them to dig deeper."

"So this is out of the goodness of your heart then?"

"Of course not." Rose snarls. "If you do something well, you never do it for free."

"Smart. Name your terms."

"I need access Inez's team. She needs to stall a flight headed out of Portland International in half an hour."

"And the flight contains?"

"A Royal, a Crachter-Mortel and a incapacitated Grimm. You should tell her to wear a mask and take out the Cratcher-Mortel first."

There's silence for a moment. "I see."

"If you don't help me now, you'll lose your chance at keeping this Grimm out of Royal hands, not to mention the utter chaos that's going to engulf Portland if I don't stop these zombies."

"You'll have to do something for us."

"I'm well aware. What do you want?"

"The Grimm's Captain...has offered himself to us. A Royal working for the Resistance...We need to know he's trustworthy."

"I don't have that much contact with him. And I can't promise I will without it looking suspicious."

"Whatever information you can give me will suffice."

"And for long?"

"Until I tell you that I no longer require your services."

"Done."

"You will say nothing to the Grimm or his Captain and Inez will call in five minutes to say she will intercept the plane. Act surprised."

"Don't you think I wouldn't have made it as long as I have without knowing how to act?" She snaps.

Mesiner chuckles. "Harmon was right about you. You are a firecracker. I look forward to hearing all this goes. Tomorrow."

"Your wish is my command." She clicks the phone off.

* * *

><p>Snow piles up on the Jeep's windshield as they wait in one of the far off parking lots near the airport. Juliette insisted on coming and it took Monroe promising the moon to keep her and Hank on the 'zombie' situation. "The last thing we need is the Resistance to see anyone else to hold over our heads.," The Captain told them when Rose offered to turn the solution into a gas and handed the jars off to Hank and Juliette. "Besides, if they fail, we'll have to be ready to go after him. I just hope it won't come to that."<p>

"What color car were they driving?"

"A black one, of course. What other color would they work in?"

"You sure this is going to work?"

"For today, yes. Tomorrow?"

He turns to her.

"I don't know." She shakes her head and grips the instrument tighter. "I really don't. What we're doing here... with me and you and Nick and Hank and... I can't tell if we're crazy or just plain delusional."

"Maybe a little of both?" He guesses.

"Maybe."

"But you and me..." He starts.

"Not crazy." She affirms. "Not crazy at all."

He turns to face her, as far as the seat will allow. "Rose..."

"Hmm?" She scans the streets again, looking for headlights or movement in the darkness. Anything.

"Rose, I know this isn't the best time or anything..."

The Captain knocks at the window and Monroe rolls his eyes. "Five minutes. Five minutes is just too much to ask, I guess."

A small black compact pulls up next to them. Inez hops out of the driver's seat, face red with cold and effort. "Next time, no Cratcher-Mortel. Jesus Christ almighty."

"You got him?" The Captain asks. "Nick?"

"We did but, Jeez." There's a roar from the trunk and a sickening thunk. Inez points. "It's all yours! I hope you're happy. Fredricks! Be a dear and pop the truck for our friend."

Fredricks gets up slowly, showing off his quickly swelling black eye as he moves under the streetlight to unlock the trunk.

"I have something for that at my shop." Rose offers.

"It's not in there, is it?" He points to the Piqure-gigantesque.

"No, that's for him."

"Didn't think you could cure someone of being a Grimm." He grunts.

"I can't. It's for the poison." Rose shoots back. She turns to Monroe and the Captain. "Ready?"

"Ready." They repeat and Fredricks pops open the trunk.

Nick, pale and bloody, screams at the sudden light and cold. His limbs flail but don't catch. She looks down into those dead black eyes and woges without meaning to. He's finally the nightmare creature she always imagined.

"Rose!" Monroe prompts her, trying to keep hold of Nick's arms. "Anytime would be good-" One slips out and Nick reaches for him, fingers curled like claws.

Rose sticks the needles in and pushes down on the plunger. Nick freezes, a half strangled cry echoing from him now. She keeps pressing on the plunger until there's nothing left. Only then does he close his eyes and go limp.

"Well...shit." Fredricks snorts.

"He might need another dose." She says to the Captain. "We should take him to the shop and wait out the night."

"I'll take him." He turns to the sleeper cell and Inez. "Thank you."

"Your brother was not a happy camper." Inez snarls. "Meisner will expect a report, Pauper."

The Captain frowns. "In my own time."

"Whatever." Inez turns to Rose. "Good meeting you, she-of-the-scary-needle."

"You too." Rose puts the Piqure-gigantesque back in its case in the back of Nick's Jeep. They speed off into the night, followed quickly by the Captain.

The flurry's quickly turning to slush and she's a little sad for it. Snow would have made another great excuse to take tomorrow off. She shuts the door and goes to walk around the front of the jeep.

"So all in all," Monroe starts. "Quiet night?"

She stops at the headlight and turns around. "I love you." Slips out instead of anything else.

He stands very still, watching her every move. "What?"

"I just- I've been thinking about it for a while..." She shrugs. "...I don't know; thought maybe you should know." She looks up at him, watching his face for reciprocation. He keeps staring at her.

"And it's not even a specific thing, like that you're a better cook than I ever will be or that you always know what to say or that you play the cello..." she babbles. "It just...is... And I know we're standing in the middle of an abandoned parking lot and I just..." She shrugs.

He grins and steps a little closer. Instead of reaching for her hands, like she imagined he would, he runs his hands up her shoulders to her cheeks. His fingers curl into her loose hair, gentle. "You love me?" He repeats, slowly and carefully.

She nods and hates that she can feel the burn of tears in her eyes, even if they are from a strange, overflowing mixture of hope and happiness. "You got anything to say?" Rose retorts and tries to not give into the quiver in her voice.

He checks his watch.

"Really?" She rolls her eyes, but isn't in the least bit surprised. "What? Are you waiting for the right moment or something?"

"Nope, just want to remember. "

"Remember what?"

He smiles and cups her face in his hands again and pulls her in; his voice drops down an octave like it always does. "That you love me on February 14th–"

She pulls back. "Wait! No, it's the 13th."

"No, it's the 14th as of ten minutes ago." He reaches for her again but she doges him effortlessly.

"Nope. No. We are not doing this today! We are not going to be a cliché!"

"So, I have to wait another twelve hours to tell you that I-"

"Don't. You. Say. It." She warns. "Not until 12:01 AM tomorrow!"

"This is ridiculous, Rose."

"Yeah, I know." She shrugs. "Maybe...maybe we could just lie?"

"We'd have to corroborate our stories, then."

"Fine by me. Official story: I told you fifteen minutes ago. And you reciprocated."

Before she can change her mind, he gathers her up in his arms. "I love you." He murmurs in her ear as she presses her forehead to his collarbone for a moment.

There are friends to help still, bigger plans at play. There are ten thousand tasks still be taken in hand. But right here and right now, in a slushy parking lot outside Portland International Airport, none of it seems to make much difference as he says the words back without her making him miss any more beats. "I love you, Rose." He says again, his voice a little surer, a little stronger. "Fifteen minutes before midnight."

And there are few things in life that fill you up the way being loved does. "Fifteen minutes before midnight." Rose agrees, closes her eyes and tilts her face upward. She's good, Rose decides. She doesn't really need to know what those other ways are.

* * *

><p>D'AW!<p>

And as a note, I'm sorry in advance for the next chapter...it's gonna be a heart-wrencher

R&R as always!


	9. It is what you fear

_Soooo, _

_We've seen hard Rose, soft Rose, vulnerable Rose and now we get to see angry Rose..._

_this ended up WAY longer than I planned. And this is actually the start of a new arc! And yeah, this sucker has been in the works since day 1...ENJOY_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root:It is what you fear./I do not fear it. I have been there."-Sylvia Plath "Elm"**_

* * *

><p>"It's no big deal at all, Mom." Rose sighs into the phone cradled between her shoulder and cheek as she pours more coffee into her mug. "I can make up this liniment from a recipe Layla sent me the other day. She swears by it and so do all of her clients. I can make it today, if you want."<p>

"I don't want to make more work for you." Her mother insists, as she always does.

"Mom, it's my _job_. I don't mind at all."

"All right. Fine. If you think it'll help. Have you gotten that watch fixed yet?"

Automatically, Rose's free hand goes to her opposite hand, where her father's watch hangs, face in, on her thin wrist. "Not yet. No."

"Oh?" Rose can hear the Calvert smirk in her mother's voice. "Because I know someone who can fix it for you."

"You are so funny, Mother."

"No, I'm being ironic, dear."

Her phone beeps for call waiting. She pulls it away from her cheek to check and rolls her eyes. "Mom, I gotta go. Call on the other line. But I'll send you some of the liniment this week, okay?"

"Don't work too hard, all right? Love you. Say hello to Monroe for me."

"I will. Love you too." She clicks over. "You're calling at a decent hour, how noble." She greets Nick.

"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry about the Volcanalis thing?"

"Well, when you stop dragging creatures out of the underworld, I'll be happy. Now, what's up?"

He sighs, like does when its one of _those_ cases. "Do you remember those burn victims in Salem, I told you about?"

Her heart drops to her knees. "Yes. You said you didn't have anything to go on. No DNA, no prints. Nothing."

"Well, it happened again. In South East."

"_Mein Gott_."

"But I've got a witness this time. And she won't talk to me. I thought maybe you could...relate?"

"I see. I'll be there in fifteen."

* * *

><p>Wu shows her to the observation portion of the interrogation room with Nick. Hank sat on the floor, talking, seemingly to an empty room. As Council Liaison to Portland, this fell squarely on her lap, regardless.<p>

"She won't come out from under the table." Nick tells her. "She got one real good look at me and woged. I don't think she's come out of it yet."

"How old?"

Nick runs his hand over his eyes. "Eight or nine? I thought Monroe said it wasn't until about thirteen or so?"

"It's early..." Rose agrees. "But probably because of the stress. Did you get a look at what she is?"

"I think she might be a Fuschbau...which is why I called you. Otherwise I would have called Monroe."

"You should probably call him. If you want to find the people who did this, you may want him to take a look at the crime scene. I won't be able to smell anything with all the smoke." It was a lie, of course. When woged, she could smell just as well as Monroe and sometimes better ("I had a cold that one time..." he always insisted when she threw it in his face). She just couldn't bring herself to see the scene.

"You've seen this before." He says. "It's how you knew before." He turns to her. "How? When?"

"Do you remember when I first came to Portland? And told you I was a consultant for Interpol?"  
>Nick nods.<p>

"It's not completely true."

Nick takes a step back. "What do you mean?"

"Has Monroe told you anything about the Wesen Council? Ever? The _Gesetzbuch Ehrenkodex_?"

Nick shakes his head.

"Did you ever wonder why we don't show ourselves to everyone? Why we keep it a secret?"

"I just thought...you know, it was easier if it was kept quiet." Nick shrugs.

"Back in the sixteenth century, wesen from all over the world came together and decided to keep themselves secret. The Council is made up of a rotating number of wesen who monitor that this rule, called the _Gesetzbuch Ehrenkodex _ is enforced."

"What happens if they break the rule?"

Rose just shakes her head. "It's a capital offence to kill a Kershite or expose the secret for selfish profit."

His jaw actually drops. "Wait...wait... let me get this straight–You killed people for this sketchy council of Wesen?"

She holds up one finger. "First of all, I busted Jay rings in Europe. I never actually killed anyone. Second, they're not sketchy, they keep the status quo. They fight against the people who do this." She gestures to Hank who's trying hard to draw the kid out. "They do what they can to stop this."

"So are you still an...agent?"

"No. I haven't been since I got back from Den Haag..." Rose nods toward the room.

"Wait...wait. Does Monroe know? About all of that?"

She rolls her eyes. "He knew something was off...But yes, he knows. What's her name?" She points to the room.

He checks the paper work. "Malena...I couldn't get a last name out of her."

Rose stares harder at the room, willing Malena to appear. "Her parents are Anita and Garret Georges."

"You knew them?"

She fights to keep her voice level. "They come-came into the shop a lot. Malena has asthma...bad. And I make her tea to help. And Anita's-" She stops suddenly, trying to keep the tears out. "I have to see her!"

"I really need to get this info from you about-" he barely makes it out of her way before she shoots past him. She burst into the room, startling Hank. "Malena? Kiddo? It's me! It's Miss Rosie!"

There's a shuffle from under the table and Malena appears, fully woged. A perfect Fuschbau in miniature. Malena gives a hiccupping gasp and slams into Rose's waiting arms. Rose turns to Hank. "I've got it from here, thanks."

"Yeah...no worries. Just holler if you need anything. " he insists and closes the door behind him.

Rose crouches down on the floor with Malena. "Oh, Kiddo..." she breathes. "Oh Kiddo. I'm so so sorry."

Malena only clings tighter to her, her tiny heart beating hard against Rose's chest. Rose rests her forehead on the top of the girl's head. She woges right back.

Malena looks up at her and burrows her face into Rose's shirt. Huge wails pour out of her. "You're safe now. I've got you." Rose purrs and runs her fingers through the girl's loose wild hair. "I've got you." She lets out a few tears of her own for her friend and for the poor girl in her arms.

Rose's not sure how long they're curled up on the floor like this but finally, Malena retracts, her olive skin gone smooth again, eyes back to their usual dark brown. She's left shaking and still clinging to Rose's blouse, her eyes barely focused on anything. "I wanna go home." She rasps with all the certainty of some who is can't tell if they're still in a nightmare. "I want my mommy."

"I know, honey." Rose kisses the top of her head and shifts back. "I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry."

"I don't want to talk to the scary man." She insists.

"Which one is that?"

Malena shudders so violently Rose is surprised she doesn't woge again. "The one with the scary eyes."

"He won't hurt you. He's a friend of mine."

Malena looks up at her, all the fight gone from her tiny shoulders. "Sure?"

"Very."

She shakes her head. "I just want to go home."

"I know. But we have to the policeman. And we'll figure the rest out." Rose gets to her feet slowly and takes Malena's hand.

Malena nods finally and rests her head on Rose's hip, half hiding behind her; the exhaustion winning out over fear.

Opening the door, Rose finds Hank and Nick in conference with the Captain, who nods politely in her direction. "Malena says she's ready to talk."

Nick takes a step forward and Malena ducks farther behind Rose, only one eye peeking behind a curtain of long dark hair. Nick's smile falters. He kneels down and Malena retreats all the way behind Rose. "Maybe..." He looks up at Rose. "Maybe Hank could take this one?"

"Sure." Hank strides toward them. "Kiddo's cool with me, aren't you?" He wonders.

Malena nods.

"Okay then."

"Rosie...stay." Malena whispers, gripping Rose's hand. "Please?"

"Am I allowed to?" She asks Hank.

"Sure," Hank turns to Malena. "But it's gotta be just me and you talking. Miss Rosie can stay if she's quiet, okay?"

Malena nods.

And so, Rose sits through Malena telling Hank every detail from the last four hours that she can recall. Breaking windows and screams and the smell of the fire in her front yard. Rose holds her breath several times to keep from busting out in tears, she smiles at Malena ever time the girls turns to look at her. She nods in encouragement and as soon as Malena turns back to Hank, Rose covers her face, gathering herself up for whatever's next.

"And where were you?" Hank wonders, pen poised above the paper.

"I hid under the sink in the bathroom... I always hide there during hide and seek. I always win." She holds her small hand over her mouth and nose. "They walked by and I held my breath. Like this."

"If you heard their voices again, do you think you could recognize them?"

Malena nods. "Their voices were all scratchy and rough."

"Did you ever hear them say names?"

Malena pauses, placing her hand palms down on the table. "Alders...Hansen...There was another but I didn't hear his name." She turns to Rose. "Can we go now? Please?"

"I have to talk to the scary policeman for a minute. Do you want to stay with Detective Griffin? Or come with me?"

Malena looks over at Hank. "No scary policeman." She mutters.

Rose drops a kiss on the top of head and heads back to the room behind the interrogation room where Nick is waiting with the Captain. "You have to leave her with me. You can't send her to a foster home." She turns to the Captain for back up.

"She's right, Nick. If the girl can't keep a firm hold on her woging, we can't leave her in a human foster home. Are you sure, you're up for this, Rosalee?" The Captain turns to her.

She can't quite believe that The Captain even knows her name. "Of course. One of us will have to contact the Council though. Have you ever dealt with them before? The PWO, I mean. " Rose wonders.

"I've had my brushes." The Captain insists. "In Italy and in Zurich. Both unpleasant circumstances. Unfortunately, none of them made it out the fire they set. We'll post a unit outside your apartment, incognito of course. It's been a while since I spoke to De Groot, I'll call."

"I'm gonna grab Hank and meet Monroe at the crime scene. " Nick grabs his coat. "You call me if there's any trouble, all right?"

"I will." Rose promises and before he's out the door, she grabs his elbow. "You don't do anything crazy. They could be in the area, still watching."

* * *

><p>Malena rests her head on Rose's lap and finally, after hours of cajoling and tea, closes her eyes. Rose keeps humming anyway, running her fingers through Malena's dark hair. She tries to settle into sleep curled into the back of the couch. But it won't come. Instead all she hears are the cries of those left behind, all the accounts in every language she knows. Nobody knew who told or when. There only ever were stories of breaking glass and screams. And then heady silence and families with holes that could not be healed. When she sat across from what was left of the victim's families, grieving and pale, Rose could always see them wondering if they should have stopped such a relationship from going forward. The fear always gives rise to doubt, its human nature.<p>

They're lucky Malena wasn't found. So often children like her vanish along with their parents. _Rooting out the infection_, a member told her once in an interview in Vienna. He had that hangdog look of an addict and there was the distinct stink of jay that lingered. _Getting every last piece of filth_. She went back to the hotel and showered for a good hour after that one.

Malena turns over in her sleep and presses the crown of her head to Rose's thigh. She exhales a tiny warm breath of, maybe not contentment but at least, some sort of peace. And Rose can't understand how anyone could see Malena that way; a problem, an infection. Malena's a tiny girl with hopes and dreams and insatiable curiosity.

"Everyone tells you that you'll never love anything like you will your child. And it's true. It's an impossible sort of love." her mother told her once. "No matter what they do or who they turn out to be, you love every bit. Every freckle and every flaw. You can't help it."

"...Even when I was..._gallivanting_..." Rose used a word that DeEtta would throw her way.

"I couldn't stop loving you even if I wanted to." Her mother assured her. "It never stops. It never goes away. I loved you before you had a name. Before I knew who you were."

Rose rests her hand on Malena's head, thinking of Anita and knowing they wouldn't have another Christmas together. And Rose doesn't even want to try to imagine it for herself. Anita and Garret knew what they were doing, how they'd be viewed. They had to know this was a real possibility.

It wouldn't be any different for her. DeEtta's stupid taunt comes back, _"You want to have his babies..."_ Children always seemed like a luxury for a life she wasn't living. Council Agents, much like addicts, did not call the shots in their own lives. Besides there had been no candidates for her. No one in the landscape of one night stands or backroom affairs who had ever told her they loved her fifteen minutes before midnight.

Until now.

There's the sound of a key in the deadbolt. She turns to watch the door open slowly and Monroe slip through. She eases Malena's head off her lap. She waits just a moment to be sure and Malena curls up into a little ball under the throw blanket.

She meets him in the kitchen where he sets his keys on the counter, like always, and shrugs off his coat to leave on one of her kitchen chairs. He turns to find her standing there. There's only sorrow written on his face, only heartbreak. He reaches for her; it's as bad as she thought.

Rose opens her mouth but only a low hiccup of tears comes out. She cups her hands over her mouth to keep from making noise and scaring Malena any further. His arms come around her and she's so glad because she's sure she won't be able to hold herself up anymore. "Oh Rose..." He says and they rock back and forth for a moment. "I saw everything," he says quietly. "I know."

Rose can only nod against his neck, hating that she actually lost in front of him.

"Nick says the whole force is one this one. And Wu's trying to get school records or wills. Anything."

She pulls back, but keeps her hands on his arms to steady herself. "She was...um...homeschooled." Rose sniffs and wipes at her eyes. "Anita and Garret were afraid to put her in public school, they didn't know when she'd go through the change or what'd she'd be...And...and..."

He reaches up and soothes one hand down the back of her head. "Hey...hey...hey...Rosalee..."

Rose sniffs hard and looks up at him. He never calls her by her full name. Ever. It's always Rose.

"It's gonna be okay. We're going to figure this out. Between all of us, we're going to figure it out."

She shakes her head. "No... no it won't, Monroe. None of this is okay."

He sighs. "That's not...that's not what I meant..." He reaches out and wipes away the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. He settles his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I know...she was your friend and Malena..."

Rose sighs. "I just...I'm..."

"Terrified?" he supplies. "Horrified? Because I am. Completely." He shakes his head. "These people...They aren't here to play."

She bites her lower lip. "Everything and exhaustion. Would you stay? Please? I'd feel better...Safer."

"Are you sure? With the Kiddo here?"

"She'd feel better too." She pulls him with her to the far side of the couch where he sits against the arm and she curls up against him. He wraps one arm around her waist, pulling her in so close that she can feel his heart against hers. Normally, it's enough to calm her.

He press a kiss to the back of her neck. "You're thinking so hard, you're practically humming."

She shifts just enough to make out his profile in the low light. _I could be looking into our future_, she thinks. _How could I not think about it?_

"I was joking..." He tells her as he tightens his arm around her. "Rose..."

"I just keep thinking about what they'd do. Tell me I'm being silly."

"You're not. I'm a little surprised is all. You're faced down drug lords and Verrat and Laufer agents, nothing. And this? I've...I've never seen you like this."

"The others," she shrugs. "They're easy. There's always something they want, you can bargain but with the PWO..." She shakes her head. "They burn everything, _Liebling_. Not just the two people but the people they care about, friends, and family. They burn everything until there's nothing and no one left. They don't bargain. And there's no upper hand."

His forehead rests on the back of her head, and she feels his breath on her neck. She could map out his face by just those two factors alone. She knows all the places to kiss, how to make him smile. And she doesn't even want to try to imagine him not being there. She squeezes his hand, wondering if she could find the same courage Anita had.

"We're gonna be okay," he murmurs and she tries to latch onto that confidence. For today, maybe. But not forever.

* * *

><p>In the morning, she finds herself alone on her couch, half under the throw blanket with a cup of steaming coffee sitting beside her on the coffee table. Her neck aches, back is sore and Rose realizes that she has reached the point she never thought she would: too old to spend the night on a couch.<p>

She hauls herself up (and swears that everyone on the West Coast can hear her spine pop) and peeks over the back to see Malena sitting on the kitchen counter, her little hands fluttering while she tells Monroe something. He responds in kind and flips something in the pan. Malena gasps in surprise and claps. And Rose sees the girl's first smile in the last twenty-four hours.

"Rosie! You're awake!" Malena calls. "Finally! We thought you were going to sleep all day."

"No, no..." Rose hauls herself up off the couch and runs a hand over her face before grabbing the coffee. She wanders, blinking into the kitchen to see Malena digging into scrambled eggs and toast.

"You fed her?" Rose looks up at Monroe.

"She's not a dog, Rose. She's a kid." He insists. "It wasn't that hard."

"Yeah but she wouldn't eat for me last night."  
>He turns to Malena. "Why not?"<p>

"I wasn't hungry last night." Malena slurps marionberry jam off her pinkie.

Rose rolls her eyes and takes a long pull of coffee. "It's too early for both of you."

"I told you she wasn't a morning person." Monroe tells Malena, who giggles.

"Now you're just filling her head with nonsense." Rose insists.

"It's not nonsense if it's true." He replies, pressing his lips to her temple.

Malena giggles from the counter, setting aside her already empty plate.

"And you..." Rose starts. "Why don't you go change and wash your face and we'll figure out what to do today?"

Malena hops down. "Okay."

"Hey, _Sie sprechen deutsche, Kind*?_" She wonders.

Malena cocks her head to one side as she passes.

"_Ich werde das als ein nein nehmen*_." Rose replies and sets her coffee cup down on the counter. "So," she continues in German. "What happened yesterday?"

"Do you really want the details?"

She nods.

"There were at least three guys and they were guys, Drang-Zorn, and two Höllentier—"

Rose runs a hand over her eyes. Just lovely.

"And there was the unmistakable stink of Jay."

"There usually is." She curses in Dutch. "I know a dealer in North Portland who's still active It'd be a start."

"Are you...on good terms?" He wonders.

"I sort of threatened him with Nick the last time I saw him." She winces. "It was after Freddy died...and I sort of lost it. Not that I was on terms with him before."

"Do you have an address or something? I can take Nick there, see if they're still around."

She nods and looks for her scrap paper to write down the address. "He's a fucking asshole so feel free to be as mean as possible. I told him that if he set one toe out of line, I'd set the Grimm after him. And—" She finishes and folds the paper in his hand. She lets her fingers settle on his wrist. "Monroe...I-I watched my dad...waste away and it was so awful... but I didn't hear him screaming, I didn't listen to him die..." She gestures toward her bedroom. "How is she going to be okay? I don't, I just don't know."

He settles his hands on her shoulders. "We're going to find her family and get her as far away from here as we can. And we're going to find the guys who did this so they can't do this to anyone else."

Rose nods silently.

"Okay?"

"Okay." She breathes and repeats. "We're gonna be okay."

"See, I told you." He grins.

"You know," Rose pulls him in a little closer. "I didn't get a good morning kiss..." she grins up at him. "I sorta like that tradition."

He doesn't need any other push and gathers her up in his arms. "Good morning." He murmurs to her.

"Good Morning." She grins. "Thank you for staying. And for getting her to eat... And, you know...everything."

"Of course. I like the Kiddo." He shrugs. "And you're not so bad yourself, I guess."

She pops up on her tiptoes and kisses him, looping her arms around his neck.

There's a small sound behind them and they part to find Malena standing in the doorway, smiling. Rose pulls away and wraps her sweater around her waist a little tighter. "You missed a spot." Rose insists, pointing to Malena's cheek.

Malena rolls her eyes and treads back to the bathroom.

"I should help her." Rose insists.

"I'll call you later." He promises, giving her one last kiss.

"I love you," she murmurs. "Be careful."

He grins. "I love you, too." He pulls on his coat as she heads over to help Malena clean up.

She grabs a washcloth from the top shelf of the linen closet and hands it to Malena. "This might help." Malena runs it under the tap while Rose runs her fingers through her hair and winces at her appearance, especially the dark circles under her eyes.

"Kiddo?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't mind that he was here when you woke up, did you?"

Malena runs the washcloth over her cheek. "No. I like Monroe. And he likes me. He brought me books."

Rose smiles. "Mythology books?"

"Yep."

"Rosie?"

"Yeah?"

"You like him too?"

Rose turns to the girl with the washcloth pressed against her cheek. "Yeah, but in a slightly different way than you do."

"Are you gonna marry him?"

"Why do you ask?"

Malena turns back to the mirror and finishes wiping off her cheek. "Isn't that what grown-ups do? Get married to nice people, have kids. I was just wondering. "

"The world is a complicated place, Kiddo." Rose says quietly. "There are no easy answers for anything."

"Yeah, I know." She sighs in a world-weary way and it breaks Rose's heart all over again.

* * *

><p>*You speak German, Kid?<p>

*I'll take that as a no

* * *

><p>"And the girl?" A Balaam asked her the next morning in the shop.<p>

Rose seals the tea bag and hands it over. "On her way to Florida this morning." The lies slip from her lips as easily as they always have.

The woman shakes her head. "Poor baby. I can't imagine...has the Council been contacted? Do the police know?"  
>Rose nods. "Both. The police have a few leads. And the Council contacted me this morning that three agents are enroute to deal with everything."<p>

The woman nods. "I'll say a prayer for her." She looks down at her five-year-old son, hanging from her coattails. "We both will."

Rose waves to them as they head out the door and ducks back into the back to check on Malena.

She and Hank have covered her back window in drawings of herself, Monroe, Hank and all different manner of Wesen. Malena's a tiny teacher, pointing to various drawings that Rose barely recognizes as Wesen, and giving Hank quite the education. Hank's at rapt attention; Malena couldn't ask for a better student.

"What's going on here?"

Malena rolls her eyes. "He doesn't know anything, Rosie."

"He's a Kheresite." Rose mutters out of the corner of her mouth. "What do you expect?"

"Hey, now," Hank starts up. "I'm learning, aren't I, Kid?"

Malena trots back over to the far window where Hank's hung all of her pictures. It's a lovely addition, Rose decides. "She been good for you?"

"Great. Learning more from her than the books in Nick's trailer. Half of them are in German or French or..." he makes a face. "Latin."

"_Ars longa, vita brevis*_." Malena throws in over her shoulder.

"Are all Fuschbau smartasses like this?" Hank wonders.

Rose shrugs. "Sort of. My sister is downright terrifying when she wants to be."

Hank grins. "I can't imagine anyone related to you being terrifying."

"You'd be surprised." Rose grins. "Thank you again, for keeping an eye on her. She was up half the night with nightmares about the PWO and Nick. I didn't think she'd want him in a tiny room with her all day."

Hank smiles over at Malena. "Sort of reminds me why I joined the force in the first place, you know."

The bell above the door rings out. Rose holds her finger before her lips and returns to the front. Immediately it hits her; Höllentier.

She does her best to slap a smile on her face, while she texts Hank under the counter to have Malena listen close. "Can I help you?" She calls.

He runs his fingers over his eyes and across the bridge of his long nose, as if it's just too much to take in all at once. The shadows beneath his eyes are deep and purple and the jaundiced tinge to his face practically sings Jay to her. "Got a wicked headache. Got told this is a place to get help." He grumbles, voice low and raspy. He runs his fingers through his short dark hair.

"You detoxing?" She wonders.

He glares at her, as if daring her to say more.

"I know the look." She insists. "When was the last hit?"

He starts to snarl but pauses when she doesn't wilt or wince. "About two days ago..."

"I've got something in the back. Give me a sec." She excuses herself. The moment she closes the door, she catches sight of Hank already on the phone whispering to Nick and Malena crouched half under the bed with one hand covering her mouth.

Rose kneels down quick and kisses the top of Malena's head. "It'll be okay, _Schatz_, I promise. Just stay calm."

Malena only nods and buries her face in a pillow.

Rose turns to Hank who mouths "Stall him." She goes to the cabinet and pulls out several tiny bottles and heads to the front.

The man's wandered to the front door, like he's checking for something.

"I don't think I've seen you before." She starts. "You new in town?"

"Passing through." He replies and turns to her. "Fuschbau?"

She nods and measures out a few drops of almond oil into the sandalwood, ylang-ylang mixture. "This sort of work has been in my family for at least three generations."

He cocks his head to one side. "You pure?"

The word sends a chill down her spine. "I don't see how that matters much." She replies as evenly as she can. "I have a cure for your headache and you're not going to get anywhere else."

He moves to the front counter, his shoulders nearly cutting off the light from the street.

She stares straight up at him. "You and I both know the conventional methods won't work. And there isn't another shop like mine for a hundred miles."

"You're awfully sure of yourself." He murmurs.

She turns to the last bottle and drops in three of the peppermint. "I know what I'm capable of." She seals the bottle and shakes it. Rose slides it over the counter. "That'll be fifteen even."

Frowning, the man digs through his back pocket and slowly withdraws a gun and sets it on the table. He leans on his knuckles over her. "I don't think so."

She grabs her box cutters from under the counter and holds the blade just under his jaw. "Don't, for one second, think you can come into _my_ city, hurt the people I care about and threaten _my_ life over a headache cure and walk out of _my_ store without a scratch."

He grins. "Big words for a Fuschbau with box cutters."

The bell above the door rings out again and she grins. "I wouldn't say that."

"Rose?" Monroe calls out. "Rose-" He must have caught sight of the gun.

"I'm fine." She calls out. "He might not be, though."

Monroe comes around the counter, eyes wide at the sight of her holding the blade against his neck. The man twists to see. "Blutbad. Well, well, well, no wonder you're attached to the little mutant."

Rose woges and presses the blade in hard enough, a few drops of blood trail down his neck. "Careful now," she hisses. "You wouldn't want that to be your last word, would you?"

"Rosalee..." Nick starts. "Put it down. I got him."

Monroe places his hand on her arm and tries to gently lower the box cutter blade away from his throat. "Rose..."

"You should listen to him. Wouldn't want blood all over your nice shop... Grundfalsch bitch, would you?"

Rose doesn't have to look over to see him woge and his hands drops away.

"Guys..." Nick starts. "Come on."

Slowly, she lets her hand fall, shaking from effort to keep from slashing across his throat. The man grins at the both of them as Nick pulls him back while he recites the Miranda rights. Monroe runs his hands over her shoulders and tries to capture her attention but Rose keeps her eyes on the man Nick's dragging out of the shop.

"You okay?" he asks.

She nods. "Yeah..."

Monroe cups her face in his hands, making her look at him. "He didn't do anything? Did he?"

"He just tried to threaten me. 'Tried' being the operative word." She manages to smile a little. "It's a good thing you two came in when you did. I might have done something really stupid."

"No, you wouldn't." He tells her and smiles.

Malena busts out the door and runs to her. Rose leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head. "It's okay, _Schatz_. Like I promised."

Malena just nods into Rose's hip.

* * *

><p>*Art is long, life is short<p>

* * *

><p>"Rosie..." Malena's little voice echoes in her ears. "Miss Rosie, wake up!"<p>

"Hmm?" Rose checks her phone. Four in the morning. "What's wrong,_ Schatz_? Are you worried about the agents again? I told you they're all very nice." Not an hour after Nick hauled away the man named Anders away, Alexander and his protégée Gunther arrived with a small round woman who introduced herself as Fadia and would be accompanying Malena to her Aunt's house in Connecticut, once things settled down. Malena had taken to Gunther and Fadia carefully but still hung onto Rose's hand.

Malena's eyes are huge in her tiny olive face. "I heard them."

"Heard who, _Schatz_?" Rose sits up finally. And then she hears it too; a car horn gone on too long and heavy footsteps. She snatches up her phone and dials Nick's number, while Malena tucks herself against Rose's side.

"Burckhardt..." is the sleepy reply.

"Nick. I think they're back."

"And the officer outside?"

"I don't think he's going to be of much help." Rose murmurs. "Please hurry."

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Just stay calm and keep away from the windows." He shuts off the phone.

With one hand, she texts Alexander, all the while keeping an eye on the windows and twisting at every sound. Malena tucks her face against Rose's back, trying to be as silent as possible. Rose reaches around and pulls the girl into her arms. "It's gonna be all right, _Schatz_."

"What does that mean?"

Rose pulls back and runs her fingers through Malena's hair. "It means 'treasure' in German. Someone started calling me that when I was sad."

"Did it make you feel better?

"It did." Rose whispers. "It did very much."

And then she smells it; smoke trailing through her window.

"Rosie..."

"Shhh." She flicks at her phone and there's only the answer: _We're on our way._

The power goes out and plunges them into total darkness and silence. Rose clutches the girl to her, Malena clings back.

Glass splinters and Malena shrieks. Rose pushes her under the bed, passing her the phone. She grabs the wooden baseball bat from her closet, heading to the living room. She woges, missing a patch of moonlight and waits until two shadows duck into the kitchen. Gripping the bat hard, she listens for every footfall as they draw closer and closer. She pulls back and swings with all her might, feeling the other end of the bat connect with one of their heads. They roar and fall back into the kitchen.

Rose pulls the bat back as the other comes flying at her. She braces herself for the second one and holds the bat between both hands as he pushes her against the door. Pushing back with all her might, she aims a kick between his legs and he goes down. She lays down the bat with one sure stroke across his ribs and he cries out in pain. Savagely, she hopes she broke a few ribs. Smoke billows across the ceiling, thick and gray and Rose starts to call out to Malena.

The first one—Rose takes a deep inhale and amid the growing stench of smoke, sweat and blood, she smells Drang-Zorn— staggers into the living room. "Where's the little mutant?"

"Get the fuck out of my house, ingrate." Rose hisses, choking up on the bat.

"Where is she?!" He roars.

"I said 'Get the fuck out of my house!'" Rose roars right back and swings at him. He dodges this time.

She hadn't been paying attention to the other one and he suddenly appears behind her and grabs the bat out of her hands. He tosses it into the kitchen where it echoes on the linoleum. The Drang-Zorn steps up into her face. "Where. Is. The. Girl?"

Rose regards him for a minute before she spits in his face. "I'm not going to tell you again; get out of my house."

He turns and heads for Rose's bedroom. The Höllentier pinning her hands together gives her a hard squeeze. "Not a smart thing to do, Grundfalsch bitch."

"Fuck you!" She coughs. The smoke's building up, creating a haze in her kitchen. "You want this to be a murder-suicide thing?" She wonders.

"Shut up!" He shakes her a bit. "Where's the little mutant?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She growls. "She's an eight year old girl."

"She's a mistake!"

Rose stomps hard on his foot, but he doesn't move. He only squeezes her clasped hands together harder. The Drang-Zorn drags Malena out by her arm, holding her cell phone a loft. "Calling on friends, are we?"

Rose just smiles sweetly at him and shrugs.

The Drang-Zorn tosses Malena to the ground and hits Rose right in the diaphragm. "Rosie!" Malena cries out. Rose collapses on ground, hitting her head on the coffee table on the way down.

She sees stars for a minute and Malena's voice cracks and breaks with the sound of shattering glasses and screams. She can't catch her breath, can't find the horizon line.

Malena's a dark shape to her right, biting at one of the men's legs, while the other tries to pull her off. She looks to her left and realizes that her bedroom is on fire. But only in a vague, semi-concerned sort of way.

The Höllentier looms over her, grabbing her by the collar of her shirt and hauling her up again. More glass shatters from the fire that's spread to her bathroom.

"Rosie!"

"Rose!"

There are too many people, too much noise and she can't grab enough air. She needs to get Malena out. Out...out...

A dark shapes moves through the apartment and Rose tries to call out to it. She falls to the ground again, pain blooming against her cheek. The linoleum isn't cool against her face, in fact it sort of feels like it's melting.

"There's no where to run, Grundfalsch bitch!" The Höllentier stands over her.

Rose reaches out and finds the bat. She grips it tight in both hands and swings hard. He falls over against her kitchen counter. Dragging the bat with her, Rose crawls out of the kitchen.

The dark shape appears and grabs her and hauls her out the door. The cold night air hits like a punch in the gut and makes her feel all her lumps and bumps. On thought carries her through. "Schatz...Kiddo..." she starts, her tongue thick with smoke and blood. "The girl! I need to get to her!" she tries.

This time when she hits the ground, the pavement is cool against her cheek. "_Schatz...Schatz..._can you hear me?"

"Malena..." Rose mutters. "She's got...asthma...I need- I need..."

Alexander's hand presses to her shoulder. "It's all right, _Schatz. _ Just be still. Help's coming."

With every deep breath, clearing her lungs of smoke and the ache starting to set in, Rose starts to hear the fire trucks and the ambulances roaring closer and closer. Just as the first ambulance pulls up, Nick comes barreling down the stairs with a lump in his arms.

"Malena!" Rose cries out but can't find the strength to get off the ground.

Nick deposits the girl in her arms, panting. "Where's Monroe? He went in first."

Rose turns to Alexander, who's crouched around her like a shield. Alexander shakes his head.

Nick gets up and runs straight back into the apartment.

"What in the hell is he doing?" Alexander asks.

"He's going back for his friend." Malena coughs and leans into Rose's shoulder as the EMTs approach. One kneels down in front of Rose and hands her a breathing mask and starts checking her eyes for concussion. He hands her an ice pack and moves on to the help his partner lift Malena onto a gurney.

"Rosie..." Malena rasps through her own oxygen mask.

As if by magic, Fadia appears next to the girl on the gurney.

"It's okay, _Schatz_, I'll be there soon." Alexander helps her stand. "I just have to check on Monroe, okay?"

Malena nods as the load her into the back of the ambulance. They close up the doors and take off.

Alexander loops one arm around Rose and helps hold her up as two shapes emerge from the now entirely on fire building. Rose tries to lurch forward but Alexander keeps her firmly in place.

Nick and Monroe collapse on the pavement three feet from her and Rose leaps away. Nick curls on his side, coughing and strangely pale. Rose pushes away sweat soaked curls from Monroe's forehead. Unlike when he's usually asleep, he doesn't move closer. He doesn't even seem to know she's there. "_Liebling_..._ Liebling. _Monroe, can you hear me?" She presses her fingers against his neck, his pulse is thready and weak. "Monroe? Please...wake up."

The EMTs rush forward past Rose; Alexander tries to pull her away. "No...no— Alexander, you don't understand. I need to help him, please!"

"It's all right, _Schatz_," He murmurs. "I'll take you to the hospital and we'll see how he is. It's all right."

* * *

><p>The waiting room feels eternal, eons pass outside and inside nothing changes. Nothing moves. The clock on the waiting room is stuck at 3:45AM and the T.V.'s off. She looks down at her father's watch and regrets for the ten thousandth time that hour that she never got him to fix it. And she may not get the chance.<p>

Nick tries to get her to give her more details about the break in and the two men but after a few failed attempts, Juliette, who met them there, pats his arm and distracts him.

"Where's the Kiddo?" Hanks wonders on her other side.

"With her agent in the pediatric wing. Its one of the few things I'm grateful for." Rose murmurs, re-adjusting the ice pack on the back of her head. Alexander has been drifting back and forth between the ER waiting room to Malena's room to give updates. "She's been through enough, doesn't need to see this too."

"Do you think you'll see her before she leaves?"

"I hope so." She looks over. "I can say good bye for you if you want."

He grins. "That'd be nice."

"She liked you. A lot. She drew you a picture. But...um..."

Carefully, he puts one arm around her shoulders. "It's okay. She can make me another one." Rose just nods. "Usually, the kids only like Wu." He goes on. "He's got a binder full of drawings they make him and he makes a big deal of adding new ones to it..." He goes on and one and Rose clings to each word. She knows he's doing it only as a distraction and she's grateful for anything to keep checking watches and clocks that don't work.

An ice age has passed and Juliette's gone to sleep against Nick's shoulder when the doctor finally emerges. He says a lot words that she doesn't quite grasp but at the end he says: "He's awake and you can see him, if you'd like."

No one else gets up and they smile at her like there's some big secret, saying they'll be there in a minute. She follows the doctor until they reach an open door, much like all the others.

"His blood work looks good and there's only one serious burn on his forearm. We'll keep him over night just to be safe but there's no reason he can't go home in the morning. " The doctor says quietly. "He might sound a bit raspy though for a while and he'll be susceptible to bronchitis and pneumonia for a bit, so keep an eye out. Thankfully it'll be summer soon and we won't have to worry much more about the rain."

Rose nods. "But there's no permanent damage? He was out for a while."

"Everything looks reasonably good for the amount of smoke he inhaled. He was lucky." He checks his watch and makes his apologies, leaving Rose standing outside the room door, wrapping one arm around her middle and trying not to cry in relief.

She pokes her head around the corner to find him, sitting up and smiling at her. He makes the "come here" gesture and it's the last thing she sees as the tears win out and he blurs before her. She walks in with carefully measured steps until she reaches the bed.

Rose furiously wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand but it doesn't help any. She takes his outstretched hand and makes her self look up at him with the cannula snaked under his nose and the pale set of his face.

"I...I..." she tries to find the words as she sits on the corner of the bed. He settles his hand against her thigh to pull her in close. She grips his wrist and tries to swallow back the tears again. "No more fires, all right?" Rose manages to choke out. "I'm putting my foot down."

He nods.

"We're not doing this ever again. Ever."

He nods again.

She leans over him and kisses both of his eyelids and the bridge of his nose, each freckle she can find. "No exit points, remember?"

He cups his free hand around the back of her neck and holds her close for a moment. "No exit points..." he manages to rasp out. And every syllable is like a knife in her chest.

Rose throws her arms around his neck and buries her face against his collarbone, promising herself to never take it for granted ever again.

* * *

><p>*CURLS UP DEFENSIVELY "NOT THE FACE!"<p>

I'M SORRY! The Whumping is not over, but unfortunately I have to finish getting ready for Camp NaNoWriMo and won't be back for another month or so.

Also, yes, every Oregonian has Marionberry something in their house. If you don't, you get carted off by the secret police.


	10. Scorched to the root

So, I lied.

Still doing NaNo but I thought I should give you the next chapter to tide you over. I swear everything pays off in the next chapter but here is some fluffy after bits.

Also, had **Wolfstar4** do a little review of the bit at the end. She approved so hopefully you will too. ;). Warning, we get a smidge racy but you don't actually see anything. AND I SWEAR IT HAS A POINT

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets.Scorched to the root/ My red filaments burn and stand, a hand of wires."- Sylvia Plath "Elm"**_

* * *

><p>"How bad is it? Your apartment?" He wonders.<p>

"Will you stop talking? You sound like a dying whale." Rose is curled up on her side on the hospital bed, keeping an eye on the door. The last time the nurse was in, she shot Rose a disapproving glare for crawling into bed with him in the first place. "Besides, you don't need to worry about that right now."

"And the Kiddo?"

She rolls her eyes, which are still puffy from this morning's smoke and tears. "They've got her on a nebulizer. All that smoke set off another attack, but she'll be okay. I'm actually going to see her in a bit. I just wanted to be sure...I had to..."

He smiles and kisses the back of her hand.

"You collapsed on me." She insists as if it were no big deal at all. "So, I had to be sure you were okay first."

"Sure...sure." He coughs.

"Kiddo's gonna ask about you. Gotta tell her something other than 'I don't know.'" Slowly, she slides to a sitting position and she sighs at the sudden aches that have set in while she lay there.

"What?" he wonders.

She shakes her head. "Nothing a good night's sleep and some Advil can't cure. Besides, I'm sure Nick, Hank and Juliette want to see you. And here I am, hogging all your time."

"Nick?"

Rose stops. "What about him?"

"Is he...okay?"

"Yeah...yeah, he's fine."

"How?"

She sighs. "I don't know. But that sounds like a problem for another day."

"You could stay..." his voice breaks on 'could.' "...a little while longer."

She finally stands at his bedside, almost exactly where she found him earlier and runs a gentle hand across his forehead before kissing him in the center. "I'll be back later, I promise."

As she heads out, she catches sight of Nick, Hank and Juliette making their way to his room.

Just before Nick heads in, Rose reaches out and grabs his arm. "Can we talk for a minute?"

He waves the others inside and pulls Rose off to the side. "What's up?"

"I just...Nick, I..." She swallows hard, playing with her father's watch.

He places a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay...He's gonna be okay."

"I know...I just...Thank you, Nick." Rose throws her arms around his neck and squeezes hard. "Thank you for saving him."

His hand comes up and settles it gently on the back of her head. "I couldn't have left him. I care about him too."

She just nods.

"Where are you going to stay? I saw the report from Arson..." He winces when she pulls back. "It looks like they've got the whole place for the next week or so."

"I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it, honestly. Probably Monroe's. I've got some stuff there and a key." He'd left it for her under her watches one morning a week or so ago.

"But they're keeping him overnight..."

"I'm a big girl."

"Well, if you want, Juliette and I have an extra room...if you didn't want to spend the night in an empty house. The offer's there."

"That's very sweet of you."

"At least let us take you to dinner or something."

She gathers him up in her arms again. "You are a good man, Nick Burkhardt," she murmurs. "Don't let anyone tell you different." She lets go and disappears, as she always has, with a bit of luck and shadow. She finds Alexander and Gunther standing guard outside Malena's room. He told her on one his trips from Malena's room to the Emergency room waiting area that he and Gunther would stay in Oregon until they were sure the PWO had vanished. When she asked how long that was, Alexander had merely shrugged. Awhile then.

"How is he, _Schatz_?" Alexander asks as she passes.

"He's going to be fine." She murmurs.

"I told you so." Alexander smirks.

"How is she?"

"Oh fine. She's been chatting up a storm with Fadia. But she's been asking about you. And Monroe."

Rose smiles and heads in.

"Rosie!" Malena screeches from the bed. Before Fadia can stop her, Malena leaps off the bed and runs to her. "You're oaky!"

"Of course I am, _Schatz_." Rose suppresses the groan as Malena's tiny body hits hers, the ache at the base of her skull reverberates all the way through her. "I told you before."

Malena peeks over Rose's shoulder. "Where's Monroe?"

"He's going to be okay. He needs some more rest first. How are you? Hmm?" Rose runs her hands over the girl's face. "How's your breathing?"

"I'm fine." Malena rolls her eyes and hums out a deep breath as if to demonstrate. "See?"

"I'm glad."

"Rosie?"

"What?"

"Do I have to go with them? To my aunt's house? Can't I stay with you? And Monroe?" Malena wonders. "I'll be good, I promise. I won't cause any trouble or anything."

Rose sighs. "Honey...you have to go to family. And your aunt is waiting for you."

Malena shakes her head. "I don't wanna go. I wanna stay with you."

Rose cups her tiny face in her hands. "I know all of this is scary, _Schatz_. And you've been so brave. But you're going to need to be brave for a while longer."

Malena leans her tiny face against Rose's neck. "No..." she murmurs.

Rose scoops her up, amazed at how thin she is, how warm and how she seemed to be made up of bird bones. "Why don't you try to close your eyes for a bit? Hmm? I bet you're exhausted." Rose smiles at Fadia, who smiles back.

"No..." Malena insists.

"Well, I am." Rose sighs and settles herself on the bed. "Do you mind if I nap here for a bit?"

"I'm not tired!" Malena says again, but leans against Rose.

"I know, but I'm gonna take a little nap." She closes her eyes and waits.

Sure enough, a moment later, Rose feels Malena curl up against her side, burrowing in for warmth and comfort. She peeks one eye open to see Malena's woged in her sleep; one of her ears twitches at some sound outside but she's already gone to sleep.

Rose turns to Fadia, who mouths, "bless you," from the other side of the room. Rose scratches behind Malena's ear and she wages back to her tiny human form. She smiles down at the girl and realizes how much she' going to miss her. She leans down, her neck silently protesting the whole time, and kisses Malena's forehead.

Slowly, she gets up and pulls the papery covers over the girl's shoulders. "Just a little while longer, _Schatz_. I promise." Rose turns to Fadia. "When are you taking her?"

"As soon as the doctors sign off. But we have a flight booked on Friday."

Rose turns back to Malena and brushes a few loose strands off the curve of her tiny cheek. There's a sudden heaviness to her heart that has nothing to do with the last twenty-four hours and more to do with the fact that Malena still clings to her fingers even now.

In the end, she makes it all the way to Monroe's house but she can't seem to settle. It's too quiet, too still after everything. She takes a one good look around and gets back in her car and drives. When she knocks on the door in North East, Juliette answers.

"Rosalee...?"

"Is that offer for dinner and a room still good?" She whispers.

"Yeah, of course." Juliette reaches out and hugs her. "Nick's ordering a pizza now. Come on in," she ushers Rose in inside without another word.

It's not home, but it's awfully nice and warm and full of sounds that she can easily identify. Not to mention Nick's scent is everywhere; a likely deterrent for any other lingering PWO members. So, she manages to relax just enough to eat a few slices and slip under the covers of the guest bed.

But it's not her bed, or Monroe's. And he's not there to breathe next to her, put his arms around her. She shivers even with the quilt and closes her eyes remembering that first night together, when he helped keep the nightmares at bay. She wondered that first morning they were together did all Blutbad feel like an open heating vent all the time like that? When she does finally drop off, it's in short catnaps and she has to remind herself where she is every single time.

* * *

><p>She's determined not to break down at the airport two days later. She's fine on the way over, even walking towards the security line. Fine. Totally fine, blabbering on and on about the apple picking and the leaves changing color in the fall, which ends up being the extent of her knowledge on Connecticut. Hank, the only police officer Malena tolerated mainly because he reminded her of her father-or so she tells Rose- throws in a few random tidbits here and there (wife #2 was a born and bred on the East Coast). But the closer it looms, Malena squeezes her hand and looks up at her, eyes glistening. "I don't want to go," she echoes the words in Rose's heart.<p>

Rose kneels down and pulls out her business card with her cell scrawled along the bottom. "You hold onto this, okay? If you ever need to talk, you can always call me, all right?"

Malena takes it between her hands, and looks down at it hard, as if trying to read some coded message between the shop name and the Rose's scrawled cellphone number. "Okay."

"You be good." She kisses the girl's forehead.

"Or what?"

Everyone smiles at that.

"Just be good."

Malena nods and turns to Fadia who takes her hand to go through the security line.

Slowly, Rose gets up out of her crouch, eyes never leaving Malena. She folds her arms over her chest as Hank drapes a careful arm around her shoulders. "She's gonna be fine. She's a good, smart kid. She's gonna be just fine."

They watch until the girl's lost among the crowd of people heading every which way.

* * *

><p>Juliette volunteers to help Rosalee salvage what they can from the apartment when the police finally give her the keys back. But looking at the burnt walls and melted molding, the only things they can find intact are a few photos, a couple of books, some of her clothes ("Guess this means a serious shopping trip," Juliette tries to joke). But most is too damaged to keep. The only thing she was thankful for was sending a cache of pictures off to her mother last week; Freddy's desk had been totally destroyed.<p>

Rose sits in the center of the living room, on her non-burnt coffee table, realizing that her life here had come to an end. It was the first place to feel like home again, like pulling on a beloved sweater after leaving it in storage all winter. Juliette settles next to her. "I know it looks bad..."

Rose turns to her and grimaces. "Bad?"

"All right, terrible. But...at least you know who your friends are now. And hey, the offer to stay with us until you back on your feet is still there. Our guest room is yours if you need it."

"Nick's okay with that?"

"I'm saying its okay. If he's smart, he'll agree." Juliette grins. "But, I can't see him objecting at all."

Rose knocks her shoulders against Juliette's. "Thanks. But I think Monroe might object actually. He says he likes having me around."

Juliette grins. "Ooh sounds serious!"

Rose shrugs. "He hasn't actually asked me or anything. It's just temporary."

"Right, sure it is." She gets up and goes to the box they'd been working on. "So...what else is left?"

"Just signatures on the paperwork from the police and the landlord." Rosalee sighs and heaves the box on her hip. "Thanks for all your help."

"Anytime. Just remember to call me when you need to go shopping for new clothes, okay?"

Rose promises that she will and heads back to Monroe's, where she showers to get rid of every last piece of ash and dust. It was only the first week or so that was really bad, him only coughing violently if anything smelled like smoke. But in the two weeks since, he'd been doing pretty well. Every night she pressed her ear to his chest or back and listened hard for any crackle. She thought she did and made him drink nothing but an infusion of anise and green tea for the whole week. He'd been less than thrilled after she hid the coffee from him.

She barely looks up from her book as the front door opens and shuts. "How was the trailer? Was it a Naiad? Was I right or was I right?" She calls out.

He appears in the doorway. "Why do you even ask?" He wonders as he hangs his coat. "Of course, you were right."

She grins as he kisses her hello and promptly flops down on the couch, settling his head on her lap. "I got a call from Malena today." She runs her fingers through his hair, smiling as he relaxes even further into her moment by moment. He even finally smells like himself and his body temperatures back to normal.

"How is the Kiddo?"

"She's doing okay. Her aunt put her in a 'private' school. She says hello."

He grins against her thigh. "She's a good kid."

"She is." Rose murmurs. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Rose." He sighs sleepily.

"No coughing or anything?"

"Nope."

"Are you lying to me?"

"A little bit."

She sighs, but doesn't stop. "I'm trying to keep you from getting pneumonia."

"I'm as healthy as a horse." He insists.

"Yeah, because I put you on the tea last week."

"You're impossible."

"I'm well aware. I've learned to live with it, though I'm surprised it took you this long to figure it out."

He sits up and kisses her on the cheek, but it lands on the corner of her mouth instead. "Well, I like having you around."

"Only because I keep you alive." She murmurs, letting her hand hang on his shirt lapel. She pulls him down into a real kiss, shifts on the couch so she's facing him. And a smaller one that feels like catching and holding. And a third because she likes things that come in threes.

"Among other reasons." He promises. Suddenly, he pulls back and looks down at her. "Is that my sweater?"

"Maybe...?" She grins and tilts her head just so, like a puppy. "It was kinda chilly and I lost most of mine...And you have like, a thousand?"

"I like it." Judging by the look on his face, she's pretty sure it's not going to be on for much longer. She tries to remember the last time they were alone like this in the last two weeks. Nothing comes to mind.

She rolls her eyes. "Is it like a weird letterman jacket thing?"

"I never had a letterman jacket," he insists, kissing her just under her ear, cupping his other hand under her knee.

Rose bites down on her lower lip to keep a lid the non-human noise that's fighting to get out. "Oh, that's right... It's because you were a nerd in high school, weren't you?" She hooks one leg around his and draws him down to her.

"Yes. And I'm sure you were just hell in high school, weren't you?" He wonders; his fingers trail down the front of the sweater and the buttons just seem to fall open.

She shrugs out of the sweater, leaving her in a skimpy tank top, tosses it over the side of the couch and loops her arms around his neck. "Oh completely. Not that it's changed much or anything."

"I'm not complaining at all."

She runs her fingers through his hair and holds him steady above her. "I missed you..."

"I'm right here." He insists.

"No, I know. I mean, when I had the kid with me and then you in the hospital." She shakes her head. "I couldn't sleep here. Not without you."

His arms slip around her waist, leaving warmth where his hands glide under her shirt and up between her shoulder blades. Every inch of skin meeting skin makes it harder to form full sentences, making her remember that she missed it; every inch, every second. "Didn't you say that we're not doing that ever again? I don't know about you but I'm going to keep to that."

She nods and kisses down his neck, letting her hand trail down.

"Should we go upstairs?" He wonders. She feels the words reverberating through his chest and can't seem to help rolling her hips against his.

Pressing a breathy kiss to his ear, he goes still for a second before his fingers dig into her spine (just as she planned) and she whispers: "No..." with a grin. Rose meets him in a kiss then, all lips and hitched breath, and doesn't miss him anymore.

* * *

><p>Later, she's wearing only the sweater now and clumsily stuffing her face with left over pad thai noodles from the other night.<p>

"You know, it can be like this all the time." He says.

"What? Eating leftovers and having sex on the couch?" She wonders. "Because I'm all for both."

"_Kluger Esel." _He kisses her cheek. "That's not what I was talking about."

"You liked my smart ass plenty about fifteen minutes ago." She insists, leaning farther back into him.

His arm around her waist tightens and presses his nose against her neck. "That I did." He drops a kiss on her shoulder. "But I was thinking about you moving in here, for real. You know, if you want to."

She sticks her chopsticks in the bowl and turns to him. "You're not kidding, are you?"

"Why would I joke about that?"

Rose shrugs. "I don't know. It's a thing to say."

"When have I ever said something just to say something?"

"Do you really want me to list off all the times you've babble about clocks when you're nervous?" She sets down her bowl and holds up her hands. "Because I will."

He sighs and covers her hands in his. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it could work. Is this what you want?"

"I just never thought..." She swallows hard. "That I'd ever want to, you know, make a home with another person...Or that anyone would want to make a home with me."

"I love you, Rose." He murmurs, his thumb tracing the indent beneath her lower lip. _Fuck._ Rose works hard to keep from launching herself at him. "And I want a life with you. I want to see you every morning, not just a few."

She huffs out a deep breath. "Why the fuck do you have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Be transparent all the time." She grins. "Why can't you just lie and pretend and be dishonest with me like all the other guys I've known?"

"I'm not transparent all the time. I'm mysterious. You had no idea I got you something for Christmas." And there's such a bit of pride in his voice.

She curls into her space next to him; she's come to love it. "You're right." She sighs. "You got me that one time. You're an awful, terrible fraud."

"So, does that mean you'll stay?" He runs his hand over the back of her head.

Rose settles her chin on his shoulder. "Can we do a trial run for a bit? Not that I don't love the idea, but I just want to be sure. I mean, we haven't even had a real fight yet."

"No," he tucks her into him. "We had a fight last week about whether to order Chinese from Lucky Strike or Chopstick Express."

She rolls her eyes. "We made out in the kitchen before we could decide."

"And then we had pho instead."

"I mean like a real argument. Not about takeout."

"So, just to be clear: in order to be real, arguments can't be about food. Got it." He chuckles.

"You're so awful." She groans.

He wraps her up in his arm. "I really do love you, you know."

"I know."

"How do you know?"

"When you look at me..." She traces her fingertips along his collarbone. "...its like anything possible."

He kisses her again, desperately and pulls her in closer. She wraps her arms around his neck, settling in his lap. "Well, okay then," She murmurs. "Only a fifteen minute break? That's all I get?"

"What do you expect when you say shit like that?" He wonders.

"I 'say shit like that' because it's true."

"So do I."

She grins. "Oh, just shut up and kiss me already."

* * *

><p>When she wakes in the morning to the sound of her phone going off, Monroe's curled around her in bed (and thankfully not on the couch; she very distinctly remembers telling him that she wasn't sleeping there again, her poor back just couldn't take it) and she tries to drift off again when he starts moving toward her bedside table.<p>

"No," she whispers. "Just ignore it for a while longer."

"How long has it been ringing?" He asks, his voice rough like it usually is in the morning lately.

"I don't care." She turns over in his arms and settles her forehead against his neck. "Don't want to know. If they need to talk to me, they can leave a message and stop calling me this early."

"It could be Nick."

"Nope. He's got a special ringtone. So do you. You guys got them the first week I was back in Portland."

"The kid?'

"Special ringtone."

It rings out again. Groaning, Rose sits up and reaches for it; Monroe's arm never leaving her waist. He leans over and leaves a trail of kisses along her neck and shoulder as she stretches. "Yes? H-hello?" She twists over her shoulder to glare at him.

He doesn't even have the nerve to look sheepish about it either.

"Do you know where I am right now, _Schatz_?"

"In bed. Which is where I am right now," she groans at Alexander.

"Gunther and I are at one of your charming universities watching your Grimm and his Kereshite partner run to and fro."

Rose rolls her eyes. "And why do I care? And who the hell uses 'to and fro' anymore?"

"Have you seen the news this morning, Schatz?"

"What part of 'in bed' do you not understand?"

"You should take a look and then call me back."

"What the fuck are you up to?"

"_Guten Morgen_, Schatz. I'll talk to you soon."

She clicks off the phone and turns to Monroe. "Apparently, there's something on the news that Alexander had to wake us up to see."

"I don't think I like your European friends very much," he admits sitting up.

"To be honest, I'm not much of a fan of his right now either. But if he wants us to see it, fine." She reaches for her robe but he pulls her back into him for just a second.

"That was nice..."

"The phone call?"

"No, last night."

She twists over her shoulder to kiss him once. "Its all the oxytocin in your system."

"You keep saying that but somehow, I kinda think you mean the other thing." He grins.

"I love you...is that what you want to hear?" She wonders.

"I love you, too."

"Good. Since we have things to get done today, I call the shower first. Coffee?"

"Always."

When she comes downstairs, the TV's on and Monroe's staring, cup of coffee frozen half way to his mouth. "What's-"

The reporter's interviewing a tall blonde woman in a lab coat who goes on and on about a perfect mummy with abnormal 'mutations.'

"Aw, fuck."

* * *

><p>yeah, I'm kinda screwing around with canon. It's super fun<p>

R&R while I'm away?


	11. by this dark thing

I HAVE RETURNED! with a successfully completed Camp NaNo first draft done! WHOOOO

And we have the last one shot in this arc. I have some ideas of what I want to do next (playing around with timeline stuff right now really). Don't worry Trubel is going to make an appearance very soon.

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all

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><p>"<em><strong>...I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me;/ All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity..." Sylvia Plath "Elm"**_

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><p>She met Alexander at Barista and it's so odd to her that Alexander is still here in her city, where they drink wrong coffee and people look at them funny when they speak Dutch (though, she's let hers become unbearably rusty) as they walk down the street.<p>

"You're on your own with this one," Rose says as she unlocks the door to the shop. "I've dealt with the Beati Poli before, remember? It didn't go so well. I got my arm broken in three places."

"Your man..." Alexander wonders as she lets him into the shop.

"He's not mine," Rose insists as she always does.

Alexander leans over the counter. "Oh, I beg to differ."

She glares over her shoulder. "I hate that 'mine', 'yours' Twilight shit. It's not like that."

Alexander sniffs. "Fine, fine. Your gentleman caller, then..."

"Very funny." Rose snaps.

Alexander smiles. "Your gentleman caller is very...interesting. This...alliance you have...very interesting."

"What does that mean?"

"You have a Grimm,_ Schatz_, a Blutbad, several Kereshite at you beck and call. And as I hear it, access to a Laufer sleeper cell."

"I told you and I've told them...We don't have an alliance. It's not like that at all. We...we have a community here. This whole Beati Paoli business has nothing to do with us."

"And so you'll let these Kheresite display our ancestors like freaks?"

Rose sighs out a deep breath. " You know I don't want that. It's...disgusting that they're treating this body like this, and the whole community is going to up in arms about this and I'll have to deal with it. That's _my_ job." And suddenly, she realized, she wasn't. She was not part of that world anymore. Meisner had called the other day to say he no longer required her services. And that was it, now completely cut off from her old life.

"Well, I have one last request to ask of you." He leans over the counter. "Your...relationship with the Grimm...I need to speak with him."

"Since when does the Council deal with Grimms?"

"I'm only following official orders."

"You won't hurt him, will you?"

A look of bemused confusion crosses Alexander's face. "You've gone and gotten yourself attached to the monster, have you?"

"He's not a monster." She insists.

Alexander laughs. "No, _Schatz_, I won't hurt him."

She fixes him with a stare. "Swear?"

He grins. "I swear."

She pulls up her phone and texts Nick: _I've got a lead on your mummy case. Come by the shop-R._

Alexander turns circles in the shop, taking it all in. "This place, it suites you."

"Yeah?" She wonders. "You think?"

He turns. "Very much. You seem at home here."

"Could be because it's my home." She insists.

Alexander smiles like a predator. "Really?"

"What? Is it so bad for me to have a home? To find a place to fit?"

"Of course not,_ Schatz_. That's not what I'm saying at all."  
>"Then, what are you trying to say?" She wonders.<p>

"I'm saying I'm glad. I'm glad that you found a home. You were without one for a long time."

Rose knots her fingers under the table. "I know."

"I'm not going to lie and pretend that I didn't wish that you hadn't found a home here, so you could come back with me to Den Haag. I miss you,_ Schatz_."

She shrugs. "I miss you too, you know? No matter how much I complain when you show up in my city."

Alexander grins.

Nick, however, does not when he arrives. He traipses through the door like always. But then pauses at the sight of Alexander and reaches for his gun all the while edging toward the front desk. "Who's your friend, Rosalee?"

"Nick...Do you remember me telling you about the Wesen Council?"

"...Yeah..."

"This is my ex-partner. Alexander Steiner. He was here to take care of the PWO, remember?"

Nick nods. "I remember you from the hospital."

Alexander reaches a hand out to shake. "Am I your first Pflichttreue? Because you're my first Grimm."

Nick takes his hand carefully. "I guess so."

"I'll cut to the chase, then Mr. Burkhardt. I have the name and address of the man who killed the security guard at the University, it's yours if you want it."

"What's the catch?"

Alexander smiles. "I'm sure Rose's told you what it is I do? We consider the murder of any Kereshite to be the worst offense. And since you are a Grimm, perhaps this would fall within your line of...work?"

"You're asking me to kill him for you?" Nick clarified.

Alexander holds out the scrap of paper before him. "Consider it a parting gift. Either way, I have a plane to catch." He turns to Rose and nods. "It was good to see you again, Rose. Tell your Gentleman Caller that I won't be calling at the crack of dawn anymore." He sets the folded paper on her counter and vanishes out the door.

Nick spins around to her. "Was he being serious?"

Rose nods. "It's true about the capitol offenses but...Grimms are not involved. They never have been."

"He's playing at something..." Nick insists and grabs the folded piece of paper. His eyes flick up to hers, as if challenging her. "Isn't he?"

Something ripples across his face, skin going grey for a moment. His hands curl into fists at his side. The paper crumples further; a small part of her hopes he can still read it. There's a sudden hard set to his jaw and his eyes flash black and infinite. Before she can stop herself, Rose takes a step backward. _Not all of that is Nick_, she thinks. _Not all of that is human._

Just as quickly as it comes, it vanishes and Nick cocks his head to one side at her. He has no clue what's happened.

She finds her voice finally. "This...This isn't ordinary procedure. But I'm not privy to their secrets anymore."

Nick sighs and dials on his phone. "Wu, I'm going to need you to check out a name and send officers to the location I have for a 'Karl Herman,' all right?"

* * *

><p>A weight settles in her chest when Nick calls again, later, saying he needs their help. Monroe looks down at her, phone held up to his cheek. He sighs and waits for her to nod.<p>

Rose runs her fingers over her forehead and sighs.

"Yeah, we'll help out. We're just observing, correct?" As he waits for Nick to agree, his arm loops around her waist and pulls her in. "Okay, we'll keep an eye on him, okay? Nothing else." He hangs up and looks down at her. "I don't like this. Something about this is just not right."

"I know," she sighs. "I know...The last thing I want to do is get between the Beati Poli and what their after."

"It's the Council I'm more worried about."

"The Council has to abide by rules, the Beati Poli don't. I would know, I sort of helped them steal a few Wesen artifacts from the British Museum a while ago."

He stares at her. "What did...wait, it's gonna be one of those things that if you tell me, you'll have to kill me, isn't it?"

"If you can guess, I'll tell you." She grins and stands on her tiptoes. He pulls her in again, closer.

"Honestly, I was kind of hoping for a repeat for last night." He shook his head. "Not guessing how many laws you broke or what pieces of history you made disappear."

She laughs. "Fair enough. It's probably better that I don't say anything."

When they arrive at the University, they sit in the quiet, nearly empty parking lot. She runs her fingers over his hand as they wait.

"Do you miss it?" He asks suddenly.

"Working with the Beati Poli?" She wonders. "God no."

"No, I mean with Alexander, the Council, running around Europe? Do you miss it?"

Rose turns to him. "Sometimes. Europe a bit, and The Netherlands especially." She grins. "You know, for the wine and shopping. But everything else?" She shrugs. "Yeah, a little. Part of me always will. Don't tell me your jealous of an entire continent."

"I'm not. Just curious is all."

"Were you trying to figure out if I was going to skip town with Alexander?" She wonders with a smile.

"Well," he holds up both hands. "On one hand, Europe, really nice wine, adventure, danger." He lifts up the other. "The other, Portland, family business and drama all the time."

"And you," She settles her hand in the Portland one and weighs it down. "Don't forget that. You've been a pretty big plus."

He grins at her before they turn back to watch the nearly empty parking lot. Before long, an SUV pulls up and who gets out, but Alexander. Monroe's hand automatically goes for this phone and she grips his hand harder. "Wait..." she breathes, her lips barely moving. "Just wait...He'll see the light."

Alexander glances around furtively before disappears into the building. Monroe looks over at her as he holds the phone out, speaker on. "Nick, dude. He's here."

Nick's silent a moment. "Thanks guys. Just stay put."

"Will do." Monroe answers and clicks off.

"Has...Nick seemed different to you lately?" She wonders.

"Different how?"

"He was in the shop today and he..." she shivers. "He wasn't himself. Like he wasn't human."

Monroe squeezes her hand. "Like when he was, well for lack of a better word, a zombie?"

She nods. "Yeah, it was."

"That might have been how he was able to go into your apartment when it was on fire and not have any smoke inhalation damage."

Rose pulls one hand up to her mouth. "I'm going to have to bring him in, run a few tests."

Suddenly shots ring out in the dark. There's another bang and then quiet.

"Should we go in?" He wonders.

"He said to stay put."

"Can we still trust him? You know, the Nick-him. How do we know that it's not the zombie-him?"

"Just..." The door that Alexander slipped through opens again. Alexander carries out something in the shape of a human body, though a little small and a litter paler than anyone should be.

The phone is already at Monroe's ear. "Dude...He's got the mummy."

"I knew it! It was just a diversion. I've got to stop him..."

"Nick," Rose starts. "Nick, maybe just this once, you could let him go?" Rose tries. "He's going to make sure that no one is going to deface our ancestor."

There's a pause. "Don't let him leave. I want to talk to him."

* * *

><p>It takes Rose two weeks before she's able to persuade Nick to come in. She holds the pen light up to Nick's eyes. His pupils follow every movement while he starts in on her: "I'm really fine, Rosalee. I don't see what all the fuss is."<p>

"You freaked me out," she insists. "You went all zombie on me, I was terrified that you were going to kill me."

"Come on, Rosalee, I wouldn't going to do that." He shrugs.

"Oh, I don't know... Zombie-Nick almost punched me in the face when I was trying to help him." She presses her fingers to his wrist and counts his pulse.

Nick runs his hands over his face. "I'm sorry about that. I really am—" She flashes him the I'm-counting-so-hush-up face and he obeys.

"Your pulse is pretty normal, a little slow for someone your age and height and weight. Have you been having any lapses in memory? Like you somehow arrive in a room and don't remember getting there? Or you forget what you're saying in the middle of saying it?"

"Yeah, I..." But he pauses. "Juliette says that sometimes...I get really cold and stop breathing but I'm fine. I never...remember..."

Rose taps her lower lip. "Sounds like some of that poison hasn't worked its way out of your system. Give me a second and I'll see what I can do." She ducks behind the counter and pulls down a few books.

"Do...do you have to?" He wonders.

Rose turns. "Nick, you did it here in the shop. You weren't you and I thought for a second that you were going to murder me."

Nick sighs. "I just...I can do things that I couldn't before. If it hadn't been for the poison, I don't think I'd had been able to pull Monroe out of the apartment..."

It's a low blow. "I just worry that it's not all gone and it's going to make you do something you'll regret. What if you lose control and hurt Juliette?"

Nick hangs his head in defeat. "How much is this going to suck?"

Rose laughs. "It's a tea, Scaredy-Pants. We'll try to do this as non-invasively as possible." She pulls down a few books and pulls together a scouring tea for him.

She grounds a few cardamom pods and threw them into the mix, along with cinnamon stick, St. John's wort, Chamomile and ginger. "As grateful as I am for you saving Monroe, I don't want Alexander to come back to take care of you."

"Yeah, yeah." He holds out his hand for the bag of tea. "So, what's the drill?"

"Once a day, preferably in the morning. Don't add sugar; it'll disturb the reaction the tea should have. If you need to sweeten it, use Agave or honey. That should last you two weeks..." she turns to her calendar, hanging next to the register. "Take it every day for the next two weeks and keep me updated on how you feel. If you have fewer episodes, I'll make you up a new dose. That'll be on the... No, there was no way two weeks would be twenty fourth. It was only the... oh God...

"The twenty fourth, right?"

"Yeah..."she breathes. "Yeah, the twenty fourth."

"You okay? You went really pale there for a second." Nick wonders.

"Yeah." She breathes. "I'm fine. Just got dizzy for a second. I'll be fine in a minute. Aren't you supposed to meet Juliette for coffee?"

Nick checks his watch. "Crap. Yes, thanks for the reminder and the tea. And.." he pauses. "Thanks for looking out for me. "

"Anytime." She grins and waves him off. The moment, Nick's gone, Rose turns back to the calendar and counts the days back again and again. And every time she comes to the same conclusion. She braces her hands on her lower back and hisses: "Fuck everything."

* * *

><p>Waiting is the worst part. And she's always been good at waiting but this is different. This is not the kind of waiting she's used to doing. The kind of waiting that she always thought she was smart enough to avoid. Her mother told Rose flat out before she took off 'gallivanting' that "babies were easier to prevent than they were to take care of. " It was the one piece of advice that Rose held tight to, even when she refused to listen to anything else.<p>

Rose cups her head in her hands as she waits for the lines to appear on the test and tries not to listen to the constant traffic in and out of the women's bathroom at a rest stop between Corvallis and Tillamock.

She told everyone she was heading down to visit her mother and sister, that they had called and wanted to see her especially after the month she'd had. And they had. She couldn't deny the timing and packed a bag while on the phone with her.

"Is there something wrong, dear? You sound worried?" Her mother wondered.

"No, I'm fine. Just tired, you know? A weekend away from the city sounds perfect. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Weekend away?" Monroe wondered as he wandered in as she hung up on her mother.

"Yeah, Mom's been bugging me to come visit, you know, since it's hard for her to make the drive up here." She tossed an extra pair of jeans in her bag.

"You sure? You've been squirrelly since you talked to Nick the other day." He reasoned.

She leaned over and kissed his temple. "I could use a break, recharge my batteries." She hated lying to his face like this.

"And the best way to do that is with your sister? Who, might I remind you, threatened to kill me if I ever hurt you."

"That was her way of saying 'hello'," Rose grinned. "Besides, I'm trying that whole 'reconnecting' thing."

And so here she is, waiting in a bathroom stall alone for her whole life to change. She checked her watch and turned the test over. The second red line was not a mistake and she let out a deep sigh of relief.

* * *

><p>She never thought that the little yellow house could bring her such relief, act as a haven to the outside world. But it had somehow. She walks in a little after ten and dropped her bag by the door.<p>

Rose slumps on the couch with her mother, throwing her arm around her. "Hi, Mom."

"Hello, darling." Her mother smiles and runs a gentle hand through Rose's hair. "How are you doing with all that? Were you able to save much beyond what you told me?"

Rose shakes her head. "A few things but almost everything's gone. I have to go shopping as soon as I get the check from the insurance company, buy an entirely new wardrobe for the most part."

"I'm sorry dear, I wish we could have been there to help."

"No, it's fine. I had a friend help me."

Her mother smiles. "Monroe?"

"No, I didn't want him anywhere near that mess. I just got him to stop coughing. The last thing I want is for him to get sick."

Her mother frowned. "What will you do now?"

"He asked me to move in with him."

Her mother turns to her as De brings tea. "Really?"

"Though, I wonder if a good seventy five percent is about me being homeless."

De only raises her eyebrows at Rose. "I doubt the percentage is that high. Has to be some other reason."

Rose shrugs. "We've been busy the last few weeks to really talk about it in depth. We've just been going and going."

De screws up her face. "Wow, Rose. Graphic." Even their mother giggles.

"I wasn't talking about _that_."

De grins. "Sure, sure."

"I'm just saying that I just wanted a break from all the running around and the city. And I haven't seen you in a while."

"Well, it's always good to have you visit." Their mother presses a kiss to her temple. "DeEtta said she was going to make her special pancakes when I told her you were coming."

"Really?" Rose turns to her sister.

De waves her hand dismissively. "I was planning on making them anyway."

"But you'll be here all weekend?"

"That was the plan."

"Good. Because I've been up too late. But I'll see you in the morning." She kisses Rose's forehead and then De's and shuffles off to bed.

The second their mother's up the stairs, De pounces on her. "What are you really doing here?"

"Jesus! Am I not allowed to visit my mother without getting the third degree?" Rose slaps her sister away. "I told you, it's been a long few weeks and I want some sympathy!"

"That is such bullshit. You were an addict for seven years!" De retorts. "You didn't need us for any sort of sympathy. Seriously! What is it?!"

"Goddamnit DeEtta! Will you get off me?" Rose shoves her away, almost off the couch. "Jesus!"

"What the hell?! You're never this defensive...or moody..." Sudden understanding explodes across her face. "Oh my GOD! "

"Shut up!" Rose hisses, glancing up stairs. "Just for the love of God, shut up!"

"I knew it!" De singsongs. "I totally knew you wanted to have his babies. Looks like you got a jumpstart!"

Rose groans, tilts her head back against the couch. "I thought I was... I'm not. I took a test on the way here. And I haven't told anyone, okay?! No one.."

"But it _could_ have been his?"

"_If_ I was, yes." Rose insists. "But like I said, I'm not."

De covers her mouth with her hand. "Oh. My. God. Oh my God!"

"You're going to say nothing to Mom! Nothing!"

De rolls her eyes. "God, you on the straight and narrow means you're absolutely no fun at all."

Rose runs her hands over her eyes. "I'm trying to be a responsible adult here, De. Be in a mature relationship. You know...not fuck everything up again. I figured you'd be happy about that, at least."

To her credit, DeEtta doesn't bring it up again the rest of the weekend. She cooks, bakes and feeds Rose almost to an inch of her life. And in return, Rose tries to watch and learn everything she can. But she can flip a pancake like no one's business, she finds out.

But the weekend draws to a close and on Sunday night, De asks: "So, what are you going to do? Are you going to tell him? Try again?" They get to share a bed since the guest room is full of boxes, waiting to go up to the attic and Rose can't sleep on the couch.

"We didn't exactly _try_..." Rose sighs. "I don't know. Should I tell him? I mean, I'm not..."

"Would it be so bad if you were?" De asks. And if Rose isn't mistaken, there's a note of wistfulness in her voice.

"I don't know. We haven't talked about kids and everything with the PWO...and the hospital," she covers her eyes and shudders. "It just seems so...huge. Like I don't know where to go from here."

"Just be careful about what you wish for. Mom says it doesn't make a difference but ..." De sighs.

"Wait...When was this? Why didn't you ever tell me"

"Rosie," De turns so they're sharing the same pillow, like they never did as kids. "I got married in the middle of college. Why else would I?" De laughs a little bitterly. "And I was going to tell you and Freddy and then...Then, it turned out, kids were never in the cards for me so Ricky had no reason to stay."

Rose tries to blink the tears away. "I can't believe I never guessed. I'm...I'm so sorry De."

"I never picked good ones anyway. It's probably for the best. You get that from me."

Rose leans back. "Not this time."

"That's why he'll be excited. And not going to run."

"Are you sure?"

"God, you are such a fucking dummy!" De retorts quietly. "Have you seen the way he looks at you? Jesus! Just trust me, he'd be excited."

Rose smiles. "Okay."

"I'm being serious, Rose."

"I know..." she whispers back.

"Don't run away because you're scared of how happy you could be."

"De, I get it. Can we just go to sleep now? I have to drive five hours to get home tomorrow."

"As long as you promise you aren't going to get up in the middle of the night and take off."

"De, it _is_ the middle of the night."

De holds up her right pinkie, glowing and white in the streetlights. "Swear."

Rose rolls her eyes as she hooks her pinkie around her sister's and gives it a small shake. "I swear."

"Good," De spits as she turns over. "If you sneak out, I'll kill you."

"Fair enough," Rose murmurs and settles on her back, hands on her stomach. _Even_ i_f there were anything there, it'd be too small to feel now_, she tells herself. She tries to picture herself two months gone with bump, easily hidden with a thick sweater, a secret known only to her.

But the only thing she sees again and again is him. Him smiling when she tells him, picking her up and twirling her around. She pictures them on some lazy Sunday morning, talking about all the things they've got to do before it arrives, arguing about names and the like. He'd kiss her, letting one hand settle on the bump.

Rose turns over, leaving on hand on her belly and dreams of a future where she's not alone.

* * *

><p>When she does finally get back home, Rose drops her bag in the hallway and goes straight to the kitchen and loops her arms around him from behind.<p>

"So, how terrible was it?" He wonders. "How many cigarettes did you sneak?"

She ducks under his arm. "How did you know about that?"

He taps his nose. "This."

She rolls her eyes at him. "None this time. And it wasn't so bad. De and I talked about a lot of things. It was...illuminating."

"See? I told you it would take a bit but you'd get there."

"Yeah..." she reaches out for his hand. "Look, I need to tell you something..."

"What?" He pauses and turns to her. "What's up?"

"I didn't go see my family because my mom asked me to."

He frowns. "Why'd you go then?"

"It was just the PWO and the kid and the hospital and Alexander and everything and us talking about moving in together. It was so much all at once-"

"Rose, it doesn't have to be serious." Monroe's face falls a little. "It doesn't have to...you know, be how it is...if that's not what you want-"

"I was late." She says finally. "And I'm never late..."

"Getting here? No, you got here just on time...I don't-"

"That's not the kind of late I'm talking about."

She can't believe though, that she's shocked him into silence.

"I'm...not. I'm one hundred percent on that. But I had to disappear for a few days to wrap my head around it. And consider all...the possibilities."

"When...?" He finally manages to squeak out. "We're so..."

"I would have put it around the time we fooled around on the couch, after you got out of the hospital." She watches him grimace. "That time, we weren't so careful..."

"I'm not sure what to say here."

She lays her hands on his wrist. "Is this something that you want? Kids, I mean. With me? I don't mean right away or anything...just, you know, down the line—"

"Yes." He replies without hesitation. He grabs her hand as if she'll run if he says anything else. She might. "I just worried that if I'd said the 'm' word or the 'b' word, you would have run for the hills and never looked back." He replies. "I've wanted to bring it up for a while..."

"How long's a while?"

He hemmed and hawed. "Since we had the argument over whether or not to order Chinese from Lucky Strike or Chopstick Express." He grins. "And you turned around holding the menu away from me like it was a hostage demand and were yelling about eggrolls."

She smiles, remembering. "I said that 'Chopstick Express' eggrolls were like tiny pieces of heaven...' "

Monroe laughs." 'That they're proof that God is real and wants us to be happy...' "

"So, us arguing about what place to order our Chinese take out from is what did it for you?" She wondered.

He shrugs. "I don't know, I just would rather fight with you about eggrolls and other stupid stuff than anything else. It felt like...home."

Rose reaches out and settles her hand on his arm. "And that's enough for you? Fighting about eggrolls and whose turn it is to do the dishes?"

"Well, yeah. Isn't that what a life together is?"

She throws her hands up in the air. "This whole thing is so disturbingly domestic."

"And you don't want to...?"

"No, no...I just..." she shakes her head. "I told you before, I never thought someone who would want to make a home with me. It's still odd to me."

"How is it odd? It's me we're talking about." He frowns. "Okay, that didn't mean that I'm odd. I am but..."

She squeezes his arm to stop him. "I love you. And I love being with you. And it's not you in particular. All of this... terrifies me."

"Rose, I'd-" He pulls her in closer and she presses her fingers against his lip to quiet him.

"I know you would never hurt me. But I keep thinking about Malena and her parents. And I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you. And a kid...a kid would have been so much right now. You're so good for me and I told you I'm selfish and small and not nearly as brave as you seem to think."

He takes her by the shoulders. "You don't think I'm scared too? Especially after all that? Because I am. I'm terrified that something is going to happen to one of us. Or both. But...don't think we'd be worth the risk?"

Silently she nods, trying hard not to cry and throws her arms around his neck. She pulls him close, so there's no space. He kisses her temple once and then twice. And his hand wraps around her waist and the other cups the back of her head.

"I want this," she whispers to him. "I want us, living here, doing what we do. It's a good life. One that not every one gets."

"Okay. Okay," is all he says, his voice just as unsteady. "Okay."

They stay like that for a while.

"Hey..." he murmured to her late that night as they lay in the dark. She's curled next to him, like always, amazed that she missed this after only a few days away.

"Hmmm?"

"Does anyone else know? About...what could have been?"

"Just De. She guessed. I didn't tell my mom."

He claps one hand over his forehead. "Thank God."

"She would have understood, you know? De wasn't planned and it worked out well for her. She probably would roll her eyes at us but she'd be happy. She likes you."

He pulls her closer. "I'm glad."

"You are?"

"Well, yeah. She means a lot to you."

"I'm an adult, Monroe. I'm not looking for my mother's approval on anything anymore."

"But it still matters and I don't want to mess that up for you. I'd hate it if I ruined whatever relationship you've been able to salvage with her."

Rose sits up on her elbow. "You could never ruin it. You helped fix it." She frowns, running her hand over his cheek. "I know that deep down you still think you're the big, bad wolf." She sighs. "But I told you, you're not. I didn't disappear this weekend because of you, I told you. It was all me."

"Next time though, could you tell me? Even if you're not sure."

"Yeah," She grins and kisses him once. "You'll be the first to know."

* * *

><p>And we're finished with another arc!<p>

R&R?


	12. they belong not to you

In which we start to go very domestic for this arc. Like super domestic.

I'm hoping to have this arc finished up by the time school starts up again.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

><p>"<strong>Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself./ They come through you but not from you. And though they are with you, they belong not to you..." Khalil Gibran "Your Children"**

* * *

><p>"There's still one more thing I've got to get," Rose says as she hoists the shopping bag over one shoulder, trying to balance out all the others. The check from the renter's insurance came through finally and the first thing Rose did (as promised) was call Juliette.<p>

"Orange Juliuses?" Juliette pipes up and then frowns. "Juliui? What is the actual plural of Julius?"

"Well that, yes. And I have no idea what the actual plural is, so I'm down to call it 'Jului' because it's funny. But," Rose sighs. "I have to get something for Monroe. His birthday's on the ninth."

"Of September? That's in like three days!"

"I know, I know. I kept putting it off and putting it off because I have no idea what to get him."

"What did you get him last year?"

"I didn't even know it was his birthday until the day of. Besides we weren't that serious then."

"Okay...what does he need?"

She smiles. "For a guy who has that many clocks, he's kind of a minimalist. He doesn't need a lot."

"Something for the kitchen maybe? William and Sonoma's just down the street. We could stop in for a minute."

"I barely know what half the things in the kitchen are now. If we go to William and Sonoma, they'll talk me into buying shiny things that we probably already have three of."

Juliette loops her arm through Rosalee's, laughing. "Okay, okay...maybe it's not a 'thing' you should give him. Maybe it's something you could make?"

Rose turns to her. "The only things I can make are zaubertraunks."

"I was thinking more along the lines of dinner... He'll love it. And I have a few recipes you could try."

"Easy stuff? I'm really terrible in the kitchen."

Juliette turns, eyes narrowed. "And you gave my boyfriend how many shots? How much tea?"

"I've always been good with potions and that kind of stuff. Everything else is sort of arbitrary, you know?"

Juliette sighs. "All right. I'll send you a few foolproof ones. Ones that even Nick can do."

"Is Nick that bad?"

"He almost set the house on fire when he tried to flambé shrimp for my birthday dinner two years ago," Juliette rolls her eyes. "It's a really good thing he's cute..."

"Note to self, no fire."

Juliette laughs. "Don't worry, none of them have fire involved, I promised. Monroe'll love it. So, that means we have to hit one more store, we gotta find you a really cute outfit." Juliette steers her to another store.

"Nothing that can catch fire!" Rose insists.

She ends up enlisting Nick's help, on the threat of a much harsher tea, to keep Monroe out of the house for a few hours. She keeps up a running stream of commentary and to Juliette via speaker phone the whole time she's running to the stove and back to the sink.

"That's it!" Juliette finally growls. "This Thanksgiving, Monroe and I are doing all the cooking. You and Nick are not allowed anywhere near the kitchen. You're giving me a panic attack just listening to you!"

"You said this would be easy!" Rose shoots back and tries not to throw the ladle back into the pot but she places tosses it anyway and is rewarded with an "Oh shit!"

"What?"

Rose glances down at her skirt to see a growing stain down her left hip. "Yeah, I should have finished before I changed." And then she hears the Bug pull up. "Shit! I thought you said Nick was going to keep him until 6:30?! I though I had another forty five minutes!"

"Crap! Oh God! Rosalee, I'll call you back. Something just came up." And Juliette's gone.

Rose clutches the nearest dishtowel and tries to rub out the stain as quickly as she can. She hears the door open and close.

"Rose?_ Liebling_?" Monroe calls. "Are you here?" He walks into the kitchen while she madly tries to save her new skirt. She looks up and tries to smile. "Is something on fire?"

"Oh my God!" She throws the towel down and runs to the stove. "The casserole!"

"Oven mitts!" He tosses them to her. "For the love of God, oven mitts!"

Rose slips them on and pulls it out, slightly smoking. She sniffs. "I think it's still good."

"What is all this?"

She holds out her hands in an unsure display. "Um...Happy Birthday?"

"This is for me?"

"Well, yeah. I thought that you're always making dinner for me and...and I couldn't think of anything else to get you for your birthday..."

He turns in a full circle at the mess in the kitchen, smiling at the sight of her in a new, but now stained skirt, flour across her cheeks and her hair a mess.

"Nick was supposed to keep you for a while longer." She murmurs. "You weren't supposed to see any of this."

"All this for me?"

She nods. "I was supposed to be cleaned up and the table was supposed to be set."

He smiles and crosses the room in three strides. He wipes the flour off her cheek. "So far, best birthday."

"You haven't even attempted the casserole yet, though," she glances over her shoulder at it. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to."

"Of course I want to."

Her phone starts ringing. "No, no no!" She switches the ringer off. "Nope. Juliette and Nick both know how hard I worked over this."

He grins. "Come on, let me help."

"You're not supposed to!" she insists again. "It was supposed to be all ready when you got here."

"So plans change," he shrugs and picks up the dishtowel. "I want to help."

She grins and holds out her hand for the dishtowel Catching her by the wrist, he pulls her in for a kiss. She smiles against him for a moment, settling the back of her knuckles against his chin. "_Glücklicher Geburtstag-Liebling*_." She mutters when she pulls away. "_Und vieler glücklicher Umsatz._*"

He tells her over and over again that it's good. They sit a while, finishing off the wine and pretending not to know what do next. But her fingers lay on the pulse point at his wrist and when ever they lean in to kiss, she feels it jump.

"You made a cake? Seriously? From scratch?" He exclaims when she tells him about dessert. "You really do love me, don't you?"

"Don't act surprised, I know how to read a recipe." She calls over her shoulder, grabbing the wine bottle by the neck and disappearing into the kitchen. "And of course I do."

"You were freaking out about the casserole and that was from a recipe." He follows her into the kitchen with the plates.

"Stop that!" She slaps his hands away as he starts running the tap. "Stop!"

"What? I'm cleaning up."

"It's your birthday; stop!" She shoves the bottle at him. "Help me finish this."

He takes the bottle from her and settles it on the counter before reaching for her, fingers spanning her hips.

"What about the cake?" Rose wonders, running her fingers up his arm. "I kinda cheated on the frosting, though. I bought it."

He shrugs. "Later."

"So, I guess I did okay?" She wonders.

"Will you stop fishing for compliments and kiss me already? It's my birthday."

Laughing, she places her hands on either side of his face and pulls him down to her. "Whatever you want, Birthday Boy." She murmurs as he lifts her gently and settles her on the kitchen counter.

"Best. Birthday. Ever." He punctuates each word with a kiss.

"You don't know that, yet. Who knows, I might discover a latent talent for knitting or something—" But he stops her with another kiss. She grins for a moment before returning it, reveling in the happy little bubble that's sprung up around them. There's no sound beyond the minimal traffic outside, the sudden rain that's finally returned. Rose threads her fingers through his hair, pulling him down to her. One of his hands moves to her ribcage, the other curls under her knee, familiar and needed.

And then her phone beeps.

"I guess not even my birthday stops to world," he groans.

"No. No." she kisses him. "No, just let me make sure nothing is on fire, okay?"

"Have I told you that I hate how responsible you are sometimes?" He wonders, kissing under her ear and down her neck.

Groaning, she digs it out of her cardigan pocket. "_Liebling_?" She tugs at his sleeve. "_Liebling_, I have like six missed called from Nick and Juliette. Something's up."

He digs his phone out too and groans. "Me too. And look who's calling again..."

She sighs against him as he fields a call from Nick. He makes nonsensical patterns on her thigh and she has a hard time keeping a hold of any solid thought.

"Dude, what the hell is going on?...Yeah? Wait...what? Hold on..." He flicks on the speaker phone. "Say that again."

"Hi Nick..." Rose rolls her eyes.

"So...you both remember Adalind?"

"Adalind who poisoned Hank...? And Juliette?" Rose murmurs. "That Adalind?"

"Yep. One and the same."

"Who did she try to kill this time?"

"Its sort of the opposite-" there's a muffle and the sound of the phone being grabbed.

"Look, Adalind had a baby." The rough, feminine voice is familiar but Rose can't seem to place it. "And she's running from the Verrat. I have to find a safe place for her and Nick's place is out."

"Mom!"  
>Rose looks up at Monroe, all the blood's drained from his face. "Shit."<p>

"So, your Mom's back in town." Rose says. "It's nice to-"

"Can they stay with you?"

Rose looks up at Monroe. "For how long?"

"Not long. Just until we can figure out our next move."

Monroe moves his hand to her shoulder, watching her expression. "Yeah, dude..." he sighs. "Bring her by."

"You're such a softie." She sighs and hops off the counter to go make up the couch. She very much doubts a Hexenbiest will want to sleep in the same bed that a Grimm once slept in.

* * *

><p>*Happy birthday, Darling<p>

*And many happy returns.

* * *

><p>Rose holds the baby who has no name up to her chest, grinning at the warmth in her arms. She isn't the tiniest baby Rose had ever held but she's certainly isn't the biggest either. But she has the most beautiful eyes Rose has ever seen.<p>

She'd been all ready to be civil, cold even, to the woman who'd nearly killed Hank and Juliette. But then she caught sight of the tiny thing in Adalind's skinny arms. And how Renard, stood hunched over her and the baby. The hardness melted away.

Though, she wished she had kept some of it as Kelly stalked through their front door without so much as a "hello." She glanced over at them briefly as she passed and disappeared into the kitchen, silent and fleeting as a ghost.

"Do you have kids?" Adalind asks, breaking the silence that's fallen on the house since Nick, Kelly and Renard's departure. Her long blond hair's pulled up into a messy bun, the bags under her eyes are dragging and purple. For all the trouble she's caused, Rose expected someone bigger, someone with a scarier voice, someone who doesn't look half starved and all scared. "You look like you know what you're doing..."

"No," Rose contorts her face at the baby girl, who watches closely. "No, I don't. No, my mom was a midwife. She taught me a lot."

"Don't." Adalind warns. "It hurts like a bitch. And the months leading up to it were not much fun either. "

Rose grins. "How old is she?"

Adalind counts on her fingers. "Um...ten days? I think?" And runs her hand over her face in exhaustion. "After a while it all sort of ran together."

"Was it...scary?" Rose wonders. Her mother used to take her on rounds when she was training. The blood never scared her. It was the screaming that did it in for her. And then sometimes, the lack of screaming. They reached out for their husbands, their mothers, anyone. But Rose couldn't stand it. The last time her mother had taken her with her, the woman had screamed so loud and long that Rose hid in the car.

"Well," Adalind leans back against the couch. "I delivered her in a shack in the middle of the Hohe Tauern National Park in the middle of Austria with a man who had no formal medical training...So, I'd say 'yeah.' It was terrifying."

Rose grins. "I'm sure." She takes a deep breath and turns to face Adalind.

"You want to say something else?"Adalind shrinks back against the couch.

"You poisoned two of my friends, two people who are my family..."

"I assume you're the one who fixed them." Adalind replies carefully. "You're the Apothacary?" She says as though she's just now putting two and two together. Rose supposes, though, that's what happens when you've given birth less than two weeks ago in the middle of a forest and then being on the run immediately after.

Rose breathes out her nose. "I am. And if you so much as look at Monroe wrong, I'll make it look like an accident. Hexenbiest or not."

"Is that a threat, Fuschbau?" Adalind wonders, hackles raised but only half heartedly. Not out of apathy, mainly that she has no energy to be angry now.

"It's a promise." Rose pats the baby's back.

Adalind regards her for a moment, eyes wary. And then her shoulders slump. "I suppose I deserve some of that. I could give you reasons for all that...But you're not interested in the 'why.'"

"I'm really not."

For a moment, the shell cracks. "I hope...I hope she's not like me. I hope she has only the good things."

Rose nods, letting it go. The baby kicks her tiny legs against the swaddling as Rose shifts her weight back and forth. Carefully, Rose tucks the blanket back over her the girl's tiny feet. And she doesn't want to hand her back. The baby is so warm against her side, and she even smells pink. Rose always thought it was a lie mother's told in the aftermath, to tell themselves that it was worth it. "She seems healthy enough." Rose turns to find Adalind fast asleep over the couch arm. Not even the now whistling tea kettle seems to faze her.

Rose runs her free hand over the baby's back and turns to the window, keeping up the rocking pace she learned from watching her mother. It's not long before she feels eyes on her back. "If you're going to sneak up on me, you'll have to do better than that." She whispers to Monroe before turning to find him watching from the kitchen.

He grins and walks over to them. "So, this is the 'Chosen one' then?" He wonders, leaning over her shoulder.

"Seems like an awfully big title for someone so small." Rose replies quietly. She looks up at him. "Do you want to hold her?"

He grimaces for a second. "You sure?"

She rolls her eyes. "You want kids and holding them is sort of a requirement. Especially when they're this squishy. Come here."

He holds out his arms and Rose deposits the baby carefully. She guides his hand to support the baby's neck and head. "See? Easy?"

He looks down at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "She's small..." he murmurs in surprise.

Rose grins. "Not many kids in your family?"

"Not really."

The baby yawns before she turns her head to rest against his arm and closes her eyes. Rose presses her lips against his shoulder as she reaches over and runs her fingers over the girl's closed fists. The girl doesn't move, seemingly happy ensconced in Monroe's arms.

"What are you thinking?" Monroe asks.

"That I'm sorry that your birthday was ruined," she sighs.

"I wouldn't say ruined."

"This evening is not ending the way I originally planned."

He glances down at the baby in his arms and sighs.

"Come on, we should let them sleep. This one especially." Rose takes the baby back and lays her in the makeshift crib. She tiptoes around the couch to turn out the light and pull the blanket up over Adalind's lap.

"To be honest," Monroe whispers to her when she joins him in the kitchen for the tea. "I expected someone scarier..."

"Oh, good. Not just me then." She grabs her mug.

"So, with all the excitement today," he leans against the counter beside her. "I haven't had a chance to run something by you."

"What?"

"My parents." He sighs as though by saying words a huge weight is slowly being leveled on top of him. " When they called today they said they want to come out and meet you."

Rose pours in honey and stirs until it no longer sticks to her spoon. "Like right now?"

"Mom's chomping at the bit. I had to talk her out of buying plane tickets for _this_ weekend."

"She's that excited? About me?"

"Of course, they are. Both of them."

"What...?" She whispers, hating the tremor in her voice. "What have you told them?"

"About what?"

"About me is what I'm really asking." She folds her arms over her chest. "What do they know?"

Monroe sighs. "That you're smart and funny and beautiful and that I love you. Only the stuff that matters."

She smiles as he leans over and kisses her solidly on the mouth, his hand twisting into her hair. "_Total nicht Messe__,_*" she mutters when they break for breath. "Buttering me up like that." She grips him by the front of his shirt.

"You like it, don't lie."

"If this is how you get me to agree to things, I think I can be okay with it."

"So, you want to meet them?" He wonders.

"I've never been one for families or parents, you know? I was always a backseat, out the window kinda girl."

He runs his thumb over her shoulder. "But that's not who you are anymore. You haven't been that person for a long time."

Rose smiles, thumbs the lip of her mug.

"They're going to love you." He insists.

"You sure?"

"Of course."

"I hope so," she turns into him. "I promise I'm going to get you something fantastic for Christmas."

"How fantastic?"

She grabs him by the front of his shirt to kiss him. "That kind of fantastic."

* * *

><p>*totally unfair<p>

* * *

><p>In the morning, Monroe presses kisses to her temple and neck, breathes that he has to go, that he'll call, that everything'll be fine. She says "yeah" and "sure" and "Love you" but turns over in her sleep and forgets until she wakes to find him gone. She sits up slowly, running a tired hand through her hair.<p>

It shouldn't have surprised her to see Kelly sitting at their kitchen table the next morning, but fear coils in her stomach all the same at the sight of the Grimm staring her down. Rose pulls her robe tighter around herself as she starts the coffee. "Good morning to you, too. Coffee?"

"How did the baby sleep?"

"Fine. We didn't hear her at all" Rose pours a one for her anyway, sets it before her and sits beside her. "They both are. Exhausted though."

Kelly palms the mug and takes a long sip. "It's good."

Rose smiles and takes a sip too. "Did Monroe leave already?"

"Nick needed him. Said I'd keep an eye on the house while he's gone. Had to return the favor."

"It's not dangerous, is it?" She wonders.

Kelly turns to her and sighs. "Everything's dangerous now." She settles back in the chair. "Nick says you live here now. After the PWO burned down your apartment."

"Yep."

"And you don't worry that they'll come back?"

Rose looks up and holds her stare. "Everyday."

"Smart girl. Keeps you on your toes."

Rose nods. "It does."

"You're different since the last time I saw you. Calmer."

"If you're waiting on an apology for that tackle, you're not going to get one. I'm not sorry I did it."

Kelly does the impossible and smiles. "Then I'm not going to apologize for upper cutting you either. I'm not sorry."

"Fair enough." Rose holds out her mug and Kelly taps hers against it as a truce.

Adalind appears, her daughter in hand but the bags under her eyes seem less purple today. "Is there any coffee left?"

"Of course." Rose gets up.

"Here," Kelly stands and holds out her hands. "Let me take her. You eat."

Adalind pours coffee into an empty mug. "Does this mean we have to leave?"

Kelly looks up from the baby girl, who usually holds her in thrall. "Eric is dead."

"What?!" Adalind whirls around. "When? How?"

Startled by her mother's sudden outburst, the baby cries out and the kitchen lights flash, the clocks all chime. Kelly shushes the baby before she turns back to Adalind. "Meisner risked his life to call and tell me. It's not safe for either of you now. Especially because Renard is here and you told the head of the Verrat that you know who he is."

Adalind braces her hands against the counter for a moment before she sighs, as though it was the end of the world. Rose sighs, wishing for all hardness when she was an Agent of the Council to come back. It would stop the sympathy seeping in and clouding her judgment. "I can't...We can't...She's so small and I just-" Adalind's voice is so small now, so constrained.

Kelly watches her intently for a moment. "If you no longer want my help, I'll go. But if you want to live... If you want her to see her first birthday...you'll be ready to go in an hour." She moves to the living room without another word.

"Come on, how many eggs do you want?" Rose wonders. "Kelly, do you want any..." she looks up to see that Kelly's rocking the baby girl back and forth in the living room, completely lost to them. "I guess not."

Adalind sucks down the coffee like it's the last cup on earth. "I can't remember the last time I had real coffee." She eyes the frying pan. "Or an actual breakfast."

Rose smiles. "Hand me that spatula."

Adalind hands it to her. "...Thank you, both of you. For everything. I...know you only took us in because Nick and Kelly asked you to."

Rose turns to her. "A year ago, I would have slammed the door in your face."

Adalind shrugs. "I still don't really blame you." There's just a hint of a smile.

The last time Rose holds the baby, who still has no name, she runs her fingers down the baby's fists. Monroe and Nick returned home only ten minutes before Kelly insisted that they really had to go. And Rose's loath to give that baby up.

Rose shuffles back and forth as Kelly packs the meager supplies and Adalind tries to get her to say where she wants to take them. But Kelly's silence is absolute.

The baby's quiet as long as she's being held, Rose notes. She shifts back and forth in front of the back window, watching the rain come down. The little girl watches her carefully, though unsure of all the chaos around her.

"_Slaap kindje slaap,...Daar buiten loop teen schaap..._" Rose sings under her breath. Her mother used to sing it to DeEtta, the last bit of Amsterdam that DeEtta got to keep. "_Een schaap met witte voetjes,...Die drinkt zijn melk zo zeotjes..."_ She glances over her shoulder to see Monroe pretending not to listen from the kitchen.

Rose grins and finishes. _"...Slaap kindje slaap...Daar buiten loop teen schaap..." _

Kelly, Adalind and Nick trump down the stairs with only two bags between them. And suddenly, Rose is loathe to give the baby girl back. But she does when Adalind reaches for her. They follow them to the front door and watch as Kelly piles Adalind and the baby into the truck that wasn't there this morning. She pauses only to hug Nick tight for a moment and give them a wave.

All three of them watch the truck until it disappears around the corner. Monroe's arm settles on her shoulder as Nick trots up the porch.

"Thanks again, guys."

"You have any idea where she's taking them?" Monroe asks.

Nick shakes his head. "It's better that nobody knows but her."

"I kinda...feel bad for her, you know?" Monroe says; his arm around her tightens just a fraction. "Having to be on the run like that."

Nick looks up at her. "You okay, Rosalee?"

Rose bites her lip before sighing: "She doesn't even have a name."

Nick smiles. "Yeah, she does. Mom told me before they left: Diana."

"It's a good name," Rose agrees.

Just as he's about to say something else, his phone rings and he answers in his detective voice: "Burckhardt...yeah. Yeah...Give me fifteen and I'll be here." He hangs up and gives them a shrug. "Murder waits for no one." And is gone too.

"They'll be okay." Monroe tells her asks her as they head back inside to start the day again.

"Yeah..." she tries to agree as she starts upstairs to get ready to head to the shop.

"You don't sound convinced."

"It's nothing. Don't worry about me, I'm just being silly."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She nods."

"What was that song you were singing earlier?"

"It's nothing. Just a lullaby my mother used to sing." She says, grabbing her bag. "She learned it when she was living in Amsterdam...around the time she met my Dad." Rose smiles at the memory. "It's about a sheep and it's...just silly." She shrugs. "I'll teach it to you sometime."

* * *

><p>* Sleep, baby sleep<p>

Outside there walks a sheep,  
>A sheep with white feet,<br>Who drinks his milk so sweet,  
>Sleep, baby sleep<br>Outside there walks a sheep.

* * *

><p>Don't worry that's not the last we're going to see of Adalind or the baby or Kelly for that matter. I unabashedly love Mama Grimm<p>

R&R?


	13. For they have their own thoughts

2nd installment of the Very Domestic Arc

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all

* * *

><p>"<strong>You may give them your love but not your thoughts. For they have their own thoughts. / You may house their bodies but not their souls, / For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams..." – Khalil Gibran "Your Children"**

* * *

><p>"You sure you're ready for this?" DeEtta asks her over the phone. "Meeting the parents is pretty serious."<p>

"Well, I've had three weeks to get ready; it's now or never." Rose snorts and pulls down the box of lavender bundles she put away last month from the top shelf and tucks it under her arm. Besides, she's had her freak-outs, three in fact. Thankfully, Monroe had only been there for one. "And he met you two and it worked out just fine. Except for you threatening him. What's that about?"

"You might have been an addict, and a Council Agent, but you're still my baby sister. Threats had to be made. He had to know who he was dealing with."

"Jesus, DeEtta..." She starts stripping off the dried blossoms into her mortar.

"And Mom was so ecstatic that you found a good one, she was going to be of no help at all. None. I mean you should have heard her in the car on the way up to your place: 'Rosie seems so different...I really think he's been good for her...I think she's really changed...' Revolting."

"You are not making me any less nervous, okay? Not helping."

De scoffs. "You'll be fine. You're cute still and they'll fall all over themselves trying to get you to like them. Me, on the other hand, I've always been a pill." She says with a note of pride. "None of my in-laws took to me."

"No one said anything about in-laws, De!"

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, but meeting the parents like this might imply they'll be your in-laws in the very near future."

Rose sighs. "I hate it when you're right."

"You're not going to fight me on that? Seriously?"

"I'm just trying not to freak out again. I'll worry about the rest later."

"What would make you less freaked out?"

"Um...a completely different past? No past drug addiction? Not working for the Council? Generally not being me?" Rose grinds the dried lavender blossoms to a fine powder with her pestle. "Someone solid and stable. You know, future daughter-in-law material?"

"Yeah...can't help you with any of those, sorry. What are you doing? Why am I not the center of your attention?"

Rose smiles. "Then, you're useless. I don't know why I keep talking to you. I'm working...you called me during shop hours."

"You need a healthy dose of reality now and again. Keeps you from getting a big head."

"I am so glad you're my sister. Have I told you that lately?"

"Whatever. Go back to crushing up beetles or whatever it is you do."

"You know that some beetles do have medicinal purposes—."

"Shut up! Please! Now, all I'm going to think about you pouring powdered beetles in my coffee!"

"I only ever did that once..."

"I'M HANGING UP NOW AND I'M NEVER CALLING YOU EVER AGAIN!"

Rose laughs as the line goes dead. When she'd gone off the map, Rose never thought Dee would ever forgive her. Dee had always been the responsible one, the one to keep her and Freddy in line. When she turned her back on everything and vanished, Rose was sure there would be no return. There would be no way for DeEtta to put this betrayal behind her. She wasn't sure if it was just the passage of time or the fact that they'd lost Freddy, but Rose discovered a woman who was very unlike the sister she'd known growing up. Time hadn't softened her bluntness any, or her short-temper (in fact, they had only gotten sharper), but Rose found her sister to be very different from the woman she knew growing up.

Rose pours the powdered lavender into a it's labeled jar, marveling at how far the both of them had come in the year and a half since she'd returned home. A place that hadn't been home for her for so many years.

She moves onto the next bunch; deftly stripping it of the blossoms and grinding them down and repeats again all afternoon, finding comfort in the rhythm. It wasn't so long ago that she wouldn't have been able to set foot in this place; too many ghosts. First her father's and now her brother's. If she were to close her eyes, she could imagine her father telling her and Freddy to stop running around and pay attention. She'd come skidding to a halt and clamor up on the counter next to him to watch him work.

"Chamomile, spearmint and lavender?" her father used to quiz her.

"To calm the mind and body." Rose, who was still called Rosie then, chanted.

"And for and for an upset stomach?"

"Cardamom, Ginger and Cinnamon." She would say faster than Freddy could. Her father would smile and hand her a candied ginger as a reward.

The bell above the door rings out and sends her back to the present. She straightens up and wipes the residual tears from her eyes. Just as she's about to call out a welcome to whom ever it is, a small familiar shape slinks into view.

Inez lifts her hood and sets it above her forehead, a feral smirk across her face. "Calvert." She nods in greeting.

"Inez. It's good to see you again." Rose replies as cordially as possible. "Is there something I can help you with?'

Inez stops and turns from her inspection of one of Rose's many bottles. "I assume that you've been following those murders..."

"I have, yes. I'm afraid that's not enough reason to contact the Council. Murders happen everyday."

"What if I told you that all the victims are Wesen? Would that be enough?" Inez challenges.

Rose stops. "Is it true?"

Inez smiles and Rose catches sight of her canines. "Isn't the Grimm you keep on a leash a cop? You could always ask him."

"He is... What are you saying?"

"You sure you fixed him with that scary-ass needle of yours?"

Rose rocks back on her heels. "I treated him. Why do you assume it's him?"

"He's a Grimm, Calvert." Inez leans over the counter. "And when I saw him last, he didn't care who was Wesen and who wasn't. He was ready to kill us all."

Rose can't help but remember that day, months ago when Nick wasn't himself and the menace rolled off him. And how it terrified her. "I fixed him." She says again.

Inez nods at her. "As long as you're sure. It's been burned into every single victim so far..." She pulls a scrap of paper out of her pocket and tosses it on the counter before she saunters out again.

Rose reaches out and unscrambles it. She yanks her hand away as if the image itself burned her. She sighs and crumples the paper back up and throws it away, like she didn't have enough on her plate.

* * *

><p>Exhausted by their all day cleaning spree, they collapse on the couch, her half on top of him. "You've got to tell me about them beyond their names." She says. She managed to wheedle their first names out of him, though. And she rather likes the sound of their names: Alice, Bart. Solid and real. "Favorite movies. Music, topics to avoid, something. Anything really."<p>

He sighs and shifts, making a little more room for her. "Okay, so... they're a little...traditional."

"On the conservative side? Or are we talking...old school?"

"It's a healthy mix of both to be honest."

She sits up a little. "Wait...so, do they still, you know, hunt?"

He grimaces. "Ever since I went vegetarian, we don't talk about it in explicit terms. Actually, we don't really talk much about anything beyond the weather. And my Dad's bad back."

"Did you tell them that we live together?"

"Might have not exactly explained everything."

She frowns. "_Liebling_..."

"I know...I know." He sighs, one hand coming up to press his palm against her temple. "But like I said, we only talk about the weather...we don't talk about...real things."

"So, they don't know anything about my...past?"

"I told them only the important things," he says again. "You can tell them that whenever you want. Not before."

Rose slips her arm around his neck.

He frowns."...You're still worried."

"Of course, I am. They're your parents and you just told me they're very traditional...and tomorrow, I'm walking into a house with three apex predators. It's a little scary."

"Are you saying that I'm not above my baser instincts?" He wonders playfully.

Rose suppresses a retort about a certain outfit of hers that works every single time. Well, really, it was the lack of said outfit but she's not to going to split hairs. "You know what I mean."

He hugs her just enough to be comforting and she lays her head down on his shoulder again. "They'll love you...I know they will."

While she finds the prospect of meeting his parents incredibly worrisome, the idea of getting married has started to sound rather nice, comforting. Safe. Rose racks her brain and tries to remember the last time she could actually use that word. Not that it would change anything on a day to day basis; he would be the first person she'd see upon waking, the last person at night and the one to argue with over takeout. Except, they'd have matching rings and a tax break.

That, of course, only led her to think about her life if that test in July had been positive. She pictured what she'd look like; probably just starting to round out to the point that it was pretty obvious. The baby'd be born in March and instead of panic and worry, there's only contentment that fills her at the thought of a life she, at one time, never thought possible.

Rose lets out a deep breath. "Not that I'm not worried about making a good impression on your parents but... has Nick seemed normal to you lately?"

"What? Why?"

"I had someone come in the shop today...and said that all the murders have been Wesen."

"You don't think it's Nick, do you?"

"He's not himself with the venom in his system...I thought the tea worked." She curls herself in closer. "I'll have to do more research and bribe him with something to come back in."

"I can help with that."

"What are you gonna do? Frog march him to the shop?"

"Let's just say, he owes me...several times over, in fact."

"Aaww," Rose giggles. "You'd use one of your favors for me?"

"Don't worry, I've still got plenty. In fact, I was going to call one in next month."

"What? For Thanksgiving?"

"Maybe before? I was thinking a weekend away at the coast?"

"In November?" She sits up on her elbow again to look him in the eye. "Really?"

"It's perfect, see? No tourists, we'd get the beach entirely to ourselves." He grins. "Some actual peace and quiet."

"Stop..." she whines. "Don't tease me."

He pulls her close and whispers: "Limited cell phone reception... We could even rent a place with no electricity."

"Horrible man!" She hisses back. "You'd better deliver after all that build up.

"So, we'll pick a weekend after my parents leave" He grins. "Just me and you."

"Just me and you." She repeats dreamily.

* * *

><p>The next morning, her alarm clock doesn't go off. Or if it does, she hits snooze at least three times. "<em>Leibling<em>?" Monroe shakes her shoulder what feels like the moment after she closed her eyes. "It's almost eight thirty...Are you alright?"

"Wha..?" Rose swats his hand away. "No...No, it's only..." She reaches for her watch. "Shit...Oh, shit! I'm late! I'm so late!" She leaps up, out of bed and runs to turn on the shower. "Coffee?" she calls out like a last request.

"It's fine!" He calls out. "I've got coffee ready. And there's bagels, remember?"

She sticks her head out the bathroom door. "Have I told you that I love you?"

"Not today."

"If you make me a bagel to go, I'll love you, I swear."

He grins and she almost leaps across the room to kiss him. But she's already so late if she does, she won't get a shower in. Afterward, she sprints down stairs, pulling a thick sweater over her blouse and flicks her fingers through her wet hair, trying to give it some volume.

"Remember, parents get in at six." He tells her as he hands off the bagel and her thermos.

"I will be home by five thirty." She promises. "Parents will be here at six thirty. And then—"

"Wine. Lots and lots of wine."

"And food somewhere in there, right?"

"I love you." He cups her face in her hands to kiss her.

"I love you, too, Official Bagel Preparer." She kisses him back. "But I gotta go." Rose runs out of the house with the bagel hanging out of her mouth, splashing coffee out of her thermos and her still wet hair hanging in her face.

She ends up spilling most of the coffee down her front halfway to the shop only to find that there's a crowd already waiting for her. She's barely out of the car when they mob her. The questions flow fast and furious: hadn't she seen the news, what was going on, who was responsible? And most importantly: What was she going to do about it?

"Responsible for what?" She finally asks when she's able to get a word in. Though, she assumes nothing good since everyone's ordering calming teas and tinctures. In the last three weeks, she's seen an uptick these types of teas lotions. She hands over a pack of her special lavender infused peppermint tea to the Balam mother who's become a regular. She always asks about Malena and if Rose is still in contact with her. Usually, they have a few moments to talk but not today.

The woman takes her in, and smiles sympathetically. "There was another one last night."

Rose runs her hand over her forehead. "Oh no...No, I didn't get a chance to see the news this morning...I was-" She gestures to herself.

"Oh, I can tell," The woman smiles in the same vein as her mother. But that smile vanishes. "But Honey, people are scared."

"I got a tip that it was a Grimm..." Rose chews at her thumbnail. "One...one of the bad ones..."

"Is it?"

"I'm looking at every possibility." She grabs one of her business cards and jots down her cell. "If you hear anything. Call me, okay? Anything at all."

More than anything, she wants to put her fears that it's Nick aside. But the only time she has to sneak away from the front is at lunch and even then, it's only for fifteen minutes. Halfway through her sandwich, she gets a panicked phone call from Monroe.

"They're getting here early..."

"What? How?" She runs a hand through her frazzled hair.

"Good headwind? I don't know; planes aren't my thing." He hazards a guess. "They should be in at five. Is there any way you get away early?"

"I can't...Apparently, it's freak out day. There was another murder last night. I'm gonna be here a while. Unless Nick can somehow figure out what in the world is going on and put a stop to it by five." Rose glances out the backroom door to see a growing crowd. "_Liebling_, I have to go... I'm sorry. I promise I'll be there as soon as I can."

After another five hours of making teas and settling as many frantic patrons as possible, Rose slips out the back door. She gets a good look at herself in the rear view mirror and groans. Her hair's gone flat on top and fuzzy around the ends and she still has a coffee stain down her front.

She digs her phone out of her bag to see two missed calls from Nick. She pulls up Monroe's number and hits call. He answers on the second ring. "Did you survive?"

"Barely. Are they there?"

"Yeah," he sighs. "Yeah, they're here."

"I'm in the car right now. I swear, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Please hurry..."

As she pulls up into the driveway, she throws her hair up into a bun and shrugs off the sweater to chuck into the backseat. Rose gives herself one last glance in her mirror and sighs. Not exactly the future daughter-in-law look she'd been hoping for.

She lets herself in and there's the sudden rush toward the hallway. Monroe greets her, though she can hear two unfamiliar voices just beyond the foyer. There's an odd tension in the air suddenly. One has never manifested as long as she'd lived here.

"Everything okay?" She wonders.

"Yeah... fine." He runs a nervous hand around the back of his neck.

"That's not very convincing." She hangs her bag on the hook in the hallway like always. She turns and places a hand over his heart. _Breathe_, she mouths to him.

He takes a deep breath and takes her hand in his. He leads her around the corner to the kitchen. "Mom, Dad...This is Rosalee..."

Alice leaps up from the table first, so fast Rose almost misses her. She's small, smaller than Rose and white-blonde with age. She has the same sort of nervous energy Monroe has, in that she needs something to do always. She grasps Rose's hands in her tiny, wiry ones. "Bart, will you look at her? Oh, she's just as beautiful as you said..." She nods in Monroe's direction.

"I swear I don't normally look like this...it's been a really rough day and—"

"Nonsense!" Alice grins. "Please don't worry about that, at all. We're just so excited to meet you!" She throws her arms around Rose. "Even if you are a Fuschbau..."

Rose glances over at Monroe, unsure what to say next. The look of horror on his face says it all. Alice leads her over to the table and urges her to sit across from Bart, whose tight smile does not reach all the way to his eyes. She's not sure what sort of charm will work on him, so she sticks to bashful and demure. It wins everyone over eventually.

"Monroe tells us that you're an Apothecary," Alice continues.

Rose nods, recovering faster than Monroe. "I sort of inherited it." She grins, all practice and second nature. "All of it. The job and the shop. Both of my parents were Apothecaries."

"Were?"

"My dad died... a long time ago. And my mother is unable to practice anymore."

"Gloria might even know more than Rose," Monroe throws in. Rose places her hand on his. But she notes how Burt narrows his eyes at it.

"Have you met her, then?"

"And DeEtta, my older sister. They dropped by last Christmas for a quick visit." Rose smiles, though this time at Burt, who does not seem to notice anything.

"And they don't have concerns?"

"Concerns?"

"About...About the two of you, I mean..."

Monroe starts. "Mom—" Rose grips his hand.

"No," Rose shakes her head. "My mother's sister married a Jagerbear. And she helped a lot of Vorrasch families in Amsterdam; it's never been a problem for her. And DeEtta is...well, DeEtta." She smiles at Monroe who gives her a tight smile in return.

Alice sits back, clearly not counting on that. She turns to her husband, who still hasn't said a word.

"Dad...did you want to say something?" Monroe wonders.

He nods, heavily as if he doesn't want to say what's weighing on him but he has no choice. "Only that I'm not surprised."

"Bart," Alice starts quietly. "Bart, it's done now. There's no point."

"What am I supposed to do? Keep quiet while our son throws his life away? First with this vegetarian thing and now with her—" He gestures to Rose. "With this Fuschbau!"

She'd made a career of people not liking her. Of destroying everything they held dear and dragging them through the mud. She'd been called every name in the book. But she couldn't find a word to say in her defense in all this.

"Dad, seriously! Don't drag Rose into this."

"You brought her into this! You think we can stand by and watch this happen?"

"What are you talking about?! Watch what happen?"

"Honey, these mixed...relationships...they don't work..."Alice chimes in.

"It's working now!" Monroe insists.

Bart runs his hands over his face, a gesture Rose recognizes immediately as one of Monroe's but on Bart it's all wrong. "And in the long run? You're going to trust a Fuschbau? You're going to have a family with her? How would you even know they'd be yours?"

Everyone goes quiet suddenly.

Rose stands slowly, unable to take anymore. "What exactly are you implying?" She wants him to say it to her face.

Bart stands too. "That your kind is all the same: Cheaters and liars. You can't help it, it's in your nature."

Rose smiles. "You know, I made an entire career out of being a pretender. I burned more people than you've probably met in your entire life. But this is the first time I've been insulted for who I am."

Bart woges, leans toward her on the table and growls: "So, what are you really here for, Fuscbau?"

"I'm only going to say this once— whether or not you believe me is your business—I love your son. That's why I'm here."

"And I suppose you encourage this vegetarian crap, then?"

"It makes him happy, clearly not a state you're used to seeing him in."

Burt looks to Monroe. "I can see why you didn't tell us until it was too late."

Instantly, Rose's bravado deflates. The blood rises in her cheeks. Somehow this stranger found her soft spot and it's all she can do to keep from woging; she grips Monroe's hand hard.

"Dad—"

"Monroe, your father is just looking out for you. He's only ever wanted the best for you." Alice tries to reason.

"And she is." Monroe slips one arm around her waist, she settles against his side. "Rose is the best thing to happen to me in a long time. And I'm not going to let you ruin that because you're stuck in the last century."

"So, you think the PWO is just a fairy tale then?" Alice wonders. There's an edge in her voice that wasn't there before.

"We're dealt with the PWO already." Rose replies. "And we're still here."

They both take a step back in horror.

"I don't know what you think you're doing." Bart growls and looks to Alice and heads for the door. "But we're not going to be involved. You're perverting the natural way of things."

"Don't do this...Mom, come on."

Alice only shakes her head quietly and follows her husband.

"Call us when this phase of your life is over."

The door slams and Rose flinches at the sound. They stare at the closed door for a good minute before they say anything.

"Why didn't you tell them?" She asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I really didn't think it would matter to them..." he whispers.

She scoffs. All the words come flying back to her, they echo around her until all the hurt and scorn and insecurity bubbles over.

"What?"

"Are you sure that's why? Or am I just another way to piss them off?"

"Rose, you know that's not why..." He reaches for her but she pulls her arms across her chest and leans back against the wall.

"You had to have known they weren't going to understand. You said they were traditional."

"I know what I said. I know. Trust me, I wasn't trying to use you."

"Then what?" _I can see why you didn't tell us until it was too late. _She hates that she can feel the tears springing to her eyes. All of this time, she'd been sure she'd be the one to do the heart breaking, to slip away when all the damage was done. But she never considered it was her who'd get her heart smashed."_Are_ you ashamed of me? I would understand if you were, there's plenty of reason for you to be."

"Rose, that's not it!" She's never heard him like this...He's always calm and clearheaded. "You know it's not!"

"Do I?!" She cries. "You didn't say _anything_ to them! It's because I am, what I am, isn't it? A liar, a cheater?" She wipes her hand across her face. "I know what I am; do you? Clearly they don't!"

He pulls away and grabs his coat. "I'm going for a walk." And he's gone before she can call him back. The door slams for a second time that night.

This is not what she had in mind. A little smiling, a little wine and after this evening they'd be treating her like their own daughter. Instead, she was standing in the hallway alone. The smell of dinner is making her nauseous and she's never wished that she had a secret stash of cigarettes like Dee. She swears she could go through an entire half-pack all by herself.

Smoke one for her own naiveté Another for Monroe's. One for thinking that people could be anything but what they were. One for being hidden. One for hiding. Another for pretending. And one for the whole mess of an evening. Even then, there's only seven. Besides, she doesn't do that anymore, she promised herself at New Years, after a wicked chest cold. That only leaves the two wine bottles that remain on the table, untouched. She tells herself that she doesn't need them.

There's a knock at the door and she scrambles for it. She wrenches it open, ready to say she so sorry for ever doubting him. For not trusting them. But to her disappointment, it's Nick.

He takes in her pale visage and the tears beading on her eyelashes. "Rosalee? What's wrong?"

Rose wipes her hand across her cheek. "It's nothing..."

"Is Monroe here? I've got a couple of questions."

"No..." she looks down at her feet for a second. "No, he's not."

"Seriously, what's going on?" He places a hand on her shoulder, she buckles under the weight.

"It's nothing." She says again. "We just...had a fight and-"

"Whoa...whoa...whoa...A fight? You two? Seriously?"

"His parents, they didn't understand at all. And we both said stupid things and..." She shakes her head. "It's dumb...Just stupid things."

"I'm so sorry—" Nick says.

She turns and braces one hand against the wall. "What did you need help with?" She scrubs her hand against her face.

"I just...I was just wondering if you or Monroe recognized this..." he held out a scrap of paper with a highly stylized "G"

Rose sniffs and then sighs. "Jesus... It's the Sterbestunde 'G'... Fuck, Nick this is so bad..."

"On a scale of one to ten?"

"Fifteen."

Nick runs a tired hand over his face. "Okay...okay...what kind of bad? Specifically?"

"If it really is an Endezeichen Grimm that's running around Portland, we're talking like mass murder problems here . They kill indiscriminately, Fuschbau, Hexenbiest, whatever they can find. It doesn't matter." She lets her gaze drift toward the street, worry starting to creep up her spine. "They used to wipe out entire villages, burn everything to the ground."

Nick follows her eyes. "I can wait until he comes back...if you want..."

"No," she shakes her head. "No, I'll be fine... you should go."

Nick nods, carefully as if any sudden movements might startle her into a breakdown. "Okay, if you're sure? I can take a lap around the block. Make sure he's okay."

"Very sure." She tries to smiles but she can feel her lips not responding the way they should. She keeps watching the street, waiting for Monroe to suddenly appear there.

He grips her arm. "Call me if he doesn't come home." He leans over and kisses her temple. "Okay?"

She agrees and closes the door behind him so carefully, she has to strain to hear the click of the lock.

Rose grabs her jacket and heads to the back step. Makes it two or three steps and sits, legs hanging over the back porch. She buries her face in her hands, releasing all the things she held back before.

Sniffing hard, Rose pulls her phone out of her pocket and dials the only person who she knows will be completely honest with her.

Dee picks up on the third ring. "So, how is meeting the parents going?"

"Awful."

"Right on schedule. What happened?"

"He didn't tell them what I am. Or that we're living together. And they stormed out, Dee. They said all these awful things... about us, about me, about how we were perverting the natural order. His dad all but called me a scheming harlot..."

"Scheming harlot? Seriously?"

"Well, I feel like it's better than what he actually implied."

"Rosie-" Dee starts with the childhood nickname and it's all she can do to keep the tears in.

"I asked him why he didn't tell them ahead of time and he said he didn't it doesn't matter to him...it's all stupid stuff..." She sniffs. "I asked him if it was because he was using me to make them mad." She tries to let it roll off her shoulder, but it catches in her throat. "Or if he was ashamed of me...He wouldn't be the first."

"Rosie, don't." Dee's voice is soft and it tears the rest of the way down Rose's throat. "Don't do that to yourself."

"I just don't understand why he didn't tell them, Dee." Rose murmurs in a voice even she doesn't recognize; it's so small and terrified...so afraid.

Dee sighs. "I don't know. But, he is not ashamed of you. He wouldn't have asked you to move in, if he was..."

Rose tips her head back to try to discern any constellations. But there's too much light pollution. "Is Mom up? Can I talk to her?"

"Yeah, hold on." There's shuffling and Dee muttering something to their mother before she picks up. "Hi, Honey..."

The whole story comes out in hiccups and prolonged silences when the tears overcome her voice entirely.

"Oh, Rosie, you knew this wasn't going to be easy."

"I didn't expect this! God, Mom! You should have heard them..."

"I can imagine. I had to listen to your Grandpa after Jeanette brought Henry home for the first time. I thought he was going to skin Henry alive and use him as a fireside rug."

Rose frowns. "What...? I thought everyone loved Henry."

"They did...eventually. It was a bit of a shock for your Grandpa. He crawled off his high horse eventually but the first few years were hard. He'd been so set in his ways."

"I never knew that."

"Your Grandpa was always ashamed that he treated Henry like that. I think there was a part of Jeanette that never forgave him for it, either. He never got to set it right with her before she died..."

"I don't want that..."

"People are who they are. You know that better than any of us, Rosie. And if they're smart, they'll wise up and get with the twenty-first century."

"And if not?"

"Monroe'll have to make a choice. It'll come down to you or them. And Rosie...?"

"Yeah?" She croaks.

"You can choose to leave too."

"I know...Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Is it worth it?"

"Is what?"

"Kids and marriage and all that? Is it worth it?"

She sighs. "Darling, have no illusions about this. No marriage is easy. And raising children is hard work. I had no clue what I was doing. But I had to wake up every day and choose it. So did your father. That's the choice you'll have to make."

Rose sighs. "Jesus, Mom, here I was hoping for some hippy-dippy bullshit easy answer."

"Rosie, there are no easy answers. Surely, you know that by now."

* * *

><p>*Curls up to protect self: NOT THE FACE!<p>

I KNOW I KNOW! I hated doing this...I HATED IT but it had to be done.

R&R?


	14. For life goes not backward

As promised the last bit of this arc! Picking up directly after the last one!

and then one last arc and then an epilogue

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.  
>For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday."<strong>__** – Khalil Gibran "Your Children"**_

* * *

><p>The door opens again, slowly this time. Monroe appears and shrugs off his jacket. From the back porch, she can see him say her name, looking for her.<p>

"Mom, I gotta go." She mutters into her phone.

"All right, Darling. Call me tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you too." Rose clicks it off and clambers to her feet. She heads back inside to meet him in the living room. "Hey..." She swipes her hair off her face, hoping it doesn't look like she's been crying.

He hangs his jacket and stands in the doorway, hands in his pockets. "Hey... Look, I'm sorry. About everything. About this whole..." He flails for the word. "This whole thing."

"This is not at all what I planned," she agrees.

"I should have said something..." He murmurs. "To you, to them."

"Why didn't you, though?" She whispers. "I just need to know."

"I thought maybe if they met you, saw you, they'd understand. If I'd have told them before...They wouldn't have even come." he shakes his head. "I wanted to give them the chance to see... I shouldn't have trusted them so much."

She nods slowly. "They're your parents and you want them involved, I get it. What with me trying to make peace with Mom and Dee."

"The big difference is that they get it. What we are." He counters. He looks up at her and frowns. "And my parents...just don't..."

"When your Dad said that thing about not telling him until it was too late..." She crosses her arms in front of her. "I just— lost it, I don't know..." She swallows hard, trying not to cry as she hears the words echoing in her ears again.

"I can't believe that my dad said that stuff, Rose. I'm so, so sorry." He reaches out one hand and waits until she takes it. But it's not enough; she reaches over and wraps her arms around him and settles his chin on top of her head.

"I'm so sorry too... I'm sorry I doubted you." She grips him hard. "I got scared and I panicked..."

He kisses the top of her head. "Well, you know..."

"What?" She pulls back enough to look him in the face.

"First real fight by your standards, not about food."

Rose busts out laughing, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

"Don't cry..." he murmurs and cradles her face in his hands. "Please don't."

"I love you." She settles her hands on his wrists. "And you love me. What's there to be sad about?"

He leans his forehead against hers. "I'm so sorry, Rose. You know I don't believe what they believe... And if they can't understand this, then... that's on them."

"You do understand what you're saying, right?" She steps back. "If you draw that line, they may not come back. This could be it."

"If they can't see how happy I am, how happy you make me, it doesn't matter."

But I don't want you to make a decision that you're going to regret five years down the line, ten years down the line. And then me, by extension."

"Rose, I could never resent you. You make me happy. Have since day one." He grips her hands tight.

She smiles, albeit tiredly. "I don't know about you, but today might have been one of the worst days, possibly ever." She squeezes his arm affectionately. "I just don't have it in me to go another round tonight, okay?"

He agrees, and loops his arm around her shoulders. " You're right. Let's go to bed. Worry about it tomorrow."

One by one, they turn out the lights in the house without saying much. They climb the stairs in the near dark, and Rose is entirely too glad to be done with today.

* * *

><p>The house is quiet when Rose wakes. It's cloudy out and there's a light dusting of snow on the eaves, making everything look frosted; it's awful early for snow, though. There's a chill in the air that she assumes has more to do with the tension from last night than the actual weather. For a moment, she's tempted to burrow back down beside him and forget a while longer. His arms loop around her waist, holding her tight to him.<p>

But she's too awake now. She sits up and sighs, running her finger through her hair. She can already tell that her eyes are puffy still and there's still a bit of an ache echoing in her head. She needs coffee, badly.

Rose checks the time, frowning. Monroe never sleeps in this late voluntarily. Gingerly, she leans over him and finds his alarm turned off. She frowns; he never turns off his alarms. Ever.

Sighing, she traces her thumbs over his eyelids, trying to relax the tension there. Rose bends down to kiss his temple and lets her thumb trace his cheekbone. He shifts in his sleep but doesn't wake.

She grabs one of his flannel shirts and a hair band and tiptoes downstairs. Rose starts coffee, letting the smell and sound fill the kitchen while she starts cleaning. She sets the two bottles of wine back into the fridge and gathers up all the plates. There's not much of dinner to be salvaged, so she tosses most of it.

The coffee's almost finished when she feels him place his arms around her waist from behind and settle his chin on her shoulder. "I made coffee." She offers quietly.

"Is this what it's like to be you?" He kisses her cheek. "Sleeping in?"

"It's nine thirty on a Sunday morning, that's not sleeping in." She retorts and turns around in his arms. "How do you feel?"

"Emotionally hung over? Is that a thing?" He reaches for the coffee cups and hands her one.

"Ah, yes." She smiles as he pours her a mug full, leaving room for cream and sugar. "I've had many of those. Dee was usually the one who sent me into a tailspin."

"I had a dream, though." He says as she pours in just enough half and half to his coffee.

"Was it good at least?" She wonders, palming her own mug.

"We were at the beach and the tide was out." His voice drops an octave even though they're the only two in the house. "It was so far out, I couldn't see the water but I could hear it."

"What were we doing?"

"Well, I was watching more than anything. You were sitting on the beach trying to build a sandcastle with our kid."

Her heart thunders in her chest. "Oh? How old?"

"She was maybe two or three? I don't know; I'm really terrible about guessing that stuff."

_She_, Rose let it roll around in her mind. _She._

"You were trying to build a moat and she kept putting little sticks all around. And you were talking about..." He shrugs. "Actually...I don't know but she kept laughing."

"And you just watched?"

"Toward the end, you turned back to look at me and smiled. But I never saw her face. She didn't turn around."

"What color was her hair?" Blonde like DeEtta? Dark like Freddy?

He shakes his head. "I don't know for sure but it was dark though." He reaches over and runs a lock through his fingers. "Sort of reddish, like yours." He smiles.

Rose smiles back at the thought and leans into him, pressing her nose to her shoulder to hide it.

"A mini-Rose." He says hopefully.

"Really? Do you really want another me running around, stubborn and defiant as all get out? And rebellious to boot?"

"Of course." He grins, pulling her the rest of the way. "Two Roses to love."

The thought's too happy, especially after last night. So, she kisses him briefly. "I'd like her to be like you, though, too. Kind and generous and thoughtful..." She thinks back to something Adalind had said: "I want her to only have the good stuff."

"That's the hope, I suppose..." And then there is only sadness etched into his face.

She shrugs and runs her fingers over his cheeks. "I wish I could fix this for you. I hate it when you're sad." She whispers. "Talking about all this...future and everything should make you happy, not sad."

He tugs at the edge of his flannel shirt, pulling her closer. "I love you. And I don't regret any of this."

"I know; I love you, too... but I wonder what's going to happen when that kid asks us where her grandparents are and we have to tell her that we cut them out before she was born?"

He's so resolute that she sees echoes of his father suddenly. But she keeps that to herself. "If they can't accept us, then I don't want my parents involved any further."

"Cutting them out entirely is worst thing ever. It feels like complete shit; I did that to myself for seven years. And I missed a lot..."

"I am not letting them talk to you like that ever again, Rose."

"I'm not saying that we have them over for Sunday dinner so _that_ can continue...I just think we should leave the door cracked. If they want to change their mind, they can."

"I don't see that changing any time soon."

"Then, we'll have to make do." She runs her hands up and down his arms. "We have friends who support us; Hank and Juliette and Nick. And my Mom and Dee. We...we can do this." She says it more for herself than him.

"You asked me once if I trusted you. That you needed to know for sure. So, I'm asking you now: do you trust me?"

"I know I panicked yesterday; I said stupid things. And I'm so, so sorry." She nods, gripping his arm tight. "I trust you."

He pulls her in for a long, lingering kiss, his fingers curling into his shirt and pulling her close. Rose clings right back, throwing her arms around his neck. That happy bubble envelops her and for a moment, she forgets the whole terrible day even happened.

"You know..." She murmurs when they break apart. "It's Sunday. And we don't have anywhere to be..."

"Oh no?"  
>"Nope." She hooks her finger into the collar of his shirt to pull him to her.<p>

"It's _only_ nine thirty..." He reasons right back, leaning into her.

She catches him in a kiss, leading him back up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Rose grins up at the ceiling from the flat of her back, running a hand through her loose hair. She lets out a deep breath, like she's emptying her lungs for something. She turns over to Monroe, who also has the silliest, but slyest look on his face. "So, fighting... cons: hurt feelings and yelling. Pros: that."<p>

"What you're telling me is that you want us to fight more?" He chuckles.

She lifts her hands up in surrender. "All I'm saying is that maybe what they say is true." He laughs and turns over, resting one hand on her cheek. Rose settles her hand on his wrist. She grins over at him, finally feeling at peace. "I love you,_ Liebling_... I know I joke and make light of it sometimes, but I do."

"When did you know for sure?"

"Hmmm..." She scoots over to him. "It might have been last Christmas. When I came back after seeing my sister and my mom. And I was so upset that I crawled into bed and you didn't turn over."

"What?"

"I told you that if you did, I'd cry. And you didn't. And we went to sleep."

Monroe frowns. "Seriously? That's it?"

"What? I knew that you were going to wait until I was ready to talk about it. You understand how I work. And I knew that you could make me happy."

"I was sort of hoping for something more...ya know... romantic?"

Rose leans the rest of the way over and kisses him again. "It was very romantic to me. When did you know that you loved me?"

"Easy. When you came back from Den Haag...I saw you coming through the crowd and..." He shrugs. "I just knew."  
>"That's it?"<p>

Monroe laughs and hauls her closer, letting one arm loop over her collar bone. "You're awful."

Rose shrugs. "Somehow, you still love me."

His thumb traces the curve of her ear down to her neck. "I do."

And then her phone rings.

Monroe drops his head down to rest on her collarbone. "I hate everything...except you."

Rose claps her hand over her face. "Nick came by last night and he needed help but we were in the middle of the fight. And there's an Endezeichen Grimm and he said he was going to call. And then...you know, this morning with the 'I'm sorry's' and ... and I kinda forgot..."

"You forgot he said there's an Endezeichen Grimm running around the city?!"

"I was little more worried about you and me, you know?!"

"Rose..."

"Next time there's a homicidal maniac on the loose in Portland, you'll be the first to know. I promise."

"That's really all I ask." He shrugs and moves of her so she can grab her phone.

"Hi Nick."

"So, I assume all's well that ends well?" She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Well, I didn't call you last night, did I?"

_Why would you call him?_ Monroe mouths at her.

Rose shakes her head. "Monroe's here. Hold on." She clicks it on to Speaker.

"So, I assume that Rosalee filled you in?" Nick sighs like he hasn't slept in years.

"Vaguely."

"Well, we have a nutjob on the loose and I think he might be a Grimm."

"Rose said something about an Endezeichen Grimm?" Monroe frowns.

"That weird 'G' has been branded into all the victims, we've been keeping that back from the press."  
>"And they've all been Wesen." Rose sighs.<p>

"How do you know that for sure?" Monroe asks.

"Inez, of the Laufer Sleeper Cell Inez, came by to see me." To Nick: "She thinks it's you still, by the way."

"What did I ever do to her?"

Rose rolls her eyes. "You're a Grimm. And the last time she saw you, you almost killed her and her whole crew, so I doubt she'll ever be a fan of yours. Too much bad blood."

"You didn't think it was me, did you?"  
>"Only if you still have some of that Cratcher-Mortel venom in your system anywhere." Monroe clarifies. "Dude, Zombie-You is scary."<p>

"But I you'd think I'd be aware of branding someone, even if it was still in my system."

Rose shrugs. "That's neither here nor there. What's up?"

"Look, I need your help tracking this guy down. His targets are so random, we don't know where to focus."  
>"Nick, if he really is an Endezeichen Grimm, all of the Wesen Community is a target." Monroe says.<p>

"Rosalee, when you first came here, you said you were a consultant for Interpol."

"Yeah and it was a lie."

"But you used to track drug king-pins, didn't you?"

"Jay Dealers, no matter how big, and Grimms are two very different things, Nick." Rose insists. "Jay Dealers are there to make a profit. Grimms aren't. They deal pretty much just in blood."

" Look, we're pulling out all the stops on this. I'd like your input, Rosalee."

Rose looks up at Monroe and sighs. "Fine."

"I'll get Renard to sign all the forms for you to be allowed to look at the evidence."

Rose groans. "But I'm not coming to the station during work hours."

"I owe you big time, Rosalee. Come by tomorrow night, okay...through the back."

When she hangs up, she looks over at Monroe, who shrugs. "Looks like we've got another favor in the bag."

* * *

><p>Rose stands in front of the map Hank and Nick created with all the places they'd found branded bodies outlined in thumbtacks. She traces her fingers across the two red thumbtacks in the Alphabet District, the three scattered through out the waterfront. And the two in South East. She perches on the edge of the table, looking for a pattern. Looking for more.<p>

Hank walks in, two coffee cups in hand and file folders under his arm. "How goes it?" He hands her the files and coffee.

Rose takes a sip and winces at the battery acid pretending to be coffee in her cup. "God, Monroe's turned me into such a coffee snob."

"It's not hard with this sludge." Hank settles next to her.

"I don't know what Nick's expecting." She flips through the first few files, wincing at the photos. "I told him this wasn't my area. I used to track down drug lords and it's easier —"

"Yeah, you follow the money." Hank grins.

"Is there anything else I should know?"

Hank takes one of the files from her and flips to a page. "This guy always corners them, usually when they're out in public. But it's weird...It'd be hard to do that alone, you know?

"Maybe he's got a partner?" Rose suggests. "The PWO doesn't travel alone. It makes sense that he wouldn't want to tackle another Grimm alone."

"What would be an endgame for him?"

Rose shrugs. "Taking care of all the Wesen that Nick hasn't? Encroaching on his territory? I don't know."

"So...if you were a Grimm, what would you do?"

Rose glares at him over the lid of her coffee cup. "You do realize what you're asking me, don't you?"

Hank sighs. "Sorry... I didn't think... But Nick, you know, doesn't do that. He's not like that."

"His mom is, though." Rose taps her upper lip, turning back the map. "If I were a Grimm and I knew there was one in Portland who wasn't doing what Grimms do...I'd fuck with him. I'd want him to know that I knew. And I'd want to terrify him into helping or at least doing what I thought needed to be done..."

Hank sits back and takes a sip. "Remind me never to piss you off, okay?"

She points to the two red thumbtacks in the Alphabet District. "He's looking for Nick..." Rose murmurs. "He's trying to draw him out."

"Like a challenge."

"I think so." Rose steeples her hands before her. "I could be wrong you know, this is not my area."

"Anything helps."

She thumbs the edges of the folders before looking up at him. "I hope you understand how different Nick is from the others. And not kill us on sight. And you and Juliette take us for how we are." She loops her arm through his. "And we're so grateful for that. Both of us."

Hank pats her hand. "You know... I wasn't sure about all of this...Grimm stuff. But..." he looks over at her. "You were a nice surprise."

"So, were you." She murmurs, turning back to the map and task at hand. "I don't know what to else to tell Nick, though."

Her phone rings out, unsettling them both. It's a number she doesn't recognize, so she answers carefully: "This is Rosalee."

"Rosalee, this is Camila..."

_Camila...Camila..._Rose frowned, unable to pull a face to the name.

"Anyway, you told me to call if I'd heard anything—" The Balam mother. "— And, I've heard that all the Wesen that were killed were all either Blutaden or Fuschbaus."

A shiver passes though her at the words. "Shit...I mean, sorry. Thank you for the info!"

As if summoned, Nick burst through the door, cell phone in hand and a wild look in his eye. "Hank, we got a 911 call just like the others."

Hank hops off the table. "Rosalee said if he's a Grimm, he's trying to draw you out. I'm telling the Captain to bring in some extra guys."

"I just got a call from one of my customers...all of victims have been Blutbad or Fuschbau..."

He pales even more so than usual. "Where's Monroe?"

Rose runs her fingers through her hair. "He's...with his parents...trying to work things out."

"Call and him and tell him to come home. Hank, I'm going to take Rosalee home. Make sure she gets there all right."

"I'm perfectly capable—" "Nick, this is your case— "

Nick holds up his hand. "Guys...guys, you know I can't hear you when you both talk at me."

Hank and Rose exchange a knowing glance, frowning.

"No, I can take Rosalee home." Hank insists. "You head up there. Especially," Hank grins devilishly. "If it's you he's looking for. It'd be better if we were both as faraway from all this as possible."

Rose hops off the table as well. "Yeah, I like his logic." She follows him out the back doors and down to his cruiser. She stops just short of opening the car door, though;

Rose feels eyes on the back of her neck. When she turns, there's no one even on the same block. Fear, she learned in her early days in Den Haag, kept you alive. She sniffs the night air hard, but the snow yesterday and the rain that's returned has diluted whatever's there.

"You okay there, Rosalee?"

"I thought...I don't know..." Rose swallows it down and gets in. "The weather's making it hard to tell."

Hank shakes his head in disbelief. "You can smell like a...a...fox, too?"

"When the weather's better, yes." Rose grins.

"Full of surprises."

She manages to forget her unease until they cross from Burnside onto Grand. They're waiting at a stop light when they hear an engine revving behind them, the squeal of tires.

Just as she's about to ask who in the world would do this, when there's a boom of metal on metal so hard, it makes her teeth rattle in her skull. Or maybe that's her head banging against the window frame. Glass shatters and skitters over them, only a few pieces catch against their cheeks. The car shudders to a stop against the curb; the engine gives one last heaving sigh and goes quiet.

She feels Hank's hand on her arm, her eyes still shut tight, refusing to survey the damage. "Rosalee? You okay?"

"Yeah..." She breathes deep for a moment. "Yeah, I'm okay, I think. Are you?"

He heaves himself upright with a groan. "I'm going to hurt tomorrow, that's for sure."

A fist bursts its way through what remained of Hank's window. It grabs him by the collar and hauls him dangerously close to the shards remaining in the window. "Where is it?" A low, deep voice growls. When Hank doesn't answer, it shakes him roughly. "Where is the little monster?"

"I hope you realize that you just assaulted a police officer!" Hank growls right back.

"I don't care who you are, except that you know where that little witch is!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, man!" Hank reaches for his gun but his movements are too unsteady and suddenly, falls forward against the steering wheel.

Forgetting there's a homicidal maniac outside the car, Rose reaches over to feel his pulse. "Hank!" It's thready but still there. "Hank!" She reaches over to his cheek and pulls her hand away, covered in blood.

A shadows moves across the hood of the car. Shit. Shit. Shit. She grabs Hank's gun out of it's holster and her phone. Dialing 911 with numb fingers, she twists in the seat and waits until he starts to open the door. She kicks out with both feet, sending him back on the shattered glass.

Rose scrambles out of the car, the phone held up to her ear and the gun trained on the figure before her.

"911, what is your emergency?"

The man slowly gets to his knees.

"My name is Rosalee Calvert and I'd like to report an accident on Burnside and Grand."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"Detective Hank Griffin is unconscious but still alive. The man who tried to kill us is alive and dangerous. You should send someone quick." Rose glares at the Grimm as he stands and turns to face her. She clicks off the phone, her eyes never leaving the Grimm at her feet.

He grins, his mouth like a slash, a cut. And his eyes are infinitely darker than the night that's fallen. Beyond that, he's average, forgettable even. "I suppose I'm not your first Grimm, am I?"

"But I am hoping that you'll be my last. Don't move!"

"Do you even know how to use that?"

Rose aims at his feet and lets off one shot. "Looks like I do."

"Where's the little witch? Where are you hiding her?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about..." Rose hides her panic behind a blank face, like she always practiced.

He steps back, confused. "But all my sources said she was here...I thought..." But she never hears the end of his thought. The sirens cut him off as they swarm up the street.

* * *

><p>Hank grips her hand tight as the EMT's pull the thread through the last stitch. He ties it off and Hank relaxes back down. "See," Hank sighs. "Not so bad."<p>

"No, not so bad." She repeats as the EMTs cover the stitches with gauze. "Come by the shop when they come out. I've got some stuff to help with scarring."

He gives her a tired salute and flops back against the bed.

"You're going to have a nice goose egg but it doesn't look like you have a concussion." The EMT turns to her. "If you start feeling nauseous, or start vomiting, anything out of the ordinary, come in or call 911. That is unless you want to come with us anyway?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks." She clambers her way out of the back of the ambulance to find Nick and Monroe deep in conversation near the brace of police cars that have remained. Thankfully, the one containing the raving Grimm has already departed.

"Rosalee!" Nick steps back at the sight of her.

She plucks at her shirttail before sighing. "It's Hank's blood..." She pulled at her collar. "Oh, no that's mine. I got a few cuts but Hank got the worst of it."

"Are you sure?" Monroe reaches over to cup the back of her neck. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah," Rose curls up under his arm. "I've got a little bump but I'll be okay."

"Thanks again, Rosalee." Nick says, moving toward the ambulance. "I owe you. Big time."

"Take care of Hank," she calls. "And we're going to cash in that favor! Very soon!" Rose turns back to Monroe, who's smiling just a little.

"Are you okay? Really?" He asks her as he leads her back to his car.

She slips her hand into his. "I've got a bit of a headache but it's pretty normal for someone who got her head smashed against a car window. What about you? How did everything go?"

He sighs. "I think it's more about how it didn't go."

She winces, imagining what sort of things were said without her in residence. And how much worse they must have been.

"They didn't come around then?"

He shakes his head.

"_Liebling_, I'm so sorry." She whispers and loops her arm through his. "I'm so, so sorry."

His hand comes up to rest on hers. "This has not been the best weekend, has it?"

"No, it really hasn't."

He reaches around and pulls her close. "I think maybe tomorrow might be another sleep-in day."

She reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss him on his cheek. "We'll be okay."

* * *

><p>*sighs* and we're done with another arc!<p>

Up next: A VERY SPECIAL ONESHOT-which will probably be pretty short. And hopefully up before Grimm returns next month


	15. I'll love you dear

Okay, so... THE VERY SPECIAL ONE SHOT AS PROMISED.

The vast majority of this has been sitting in my folder for like 6 months! AND I'M so excited to actually get to use it finally!

Please be sure to read the note at the end!

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all

* * *

><p><em>"<strong>...'Love has no ending. 'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you/Till China and Africa meet,/ And the river jumps over the mountain/And the salmon sing in the street,/'I'll love you till the ocean/Is folded and hung up to dry And the seven stars go squawking/Like geese about the sky./'The years shall run like rabbits, /For in my arms I hold/ The Flower of the Ages, /And the first love of the world.'..."- W.H. Auden "As I Walked Out One Evening"**_

* * *

><p>The Oregon coast is unsurprisingly grey and covered in thick fog that refuses to burn off no matter the time of day. Seagulls sound over the crash of the waves against the haystack formations on Canon Beach. It's been too long since Rose felt the heaviness of the salt air, she decides. She hasn't been back since her dad died.<p>

They used spend weekends at friends' cabins on the beach, sun-bleached days of collecting shells and stones and driftwood that's been lost a thousand times over. Their parents always bought a bag of saltwater taffy for the three of them to share on the car ride home. And without fail, she and Freddie would fall asleep before they finished the bag, sprawled out over Dee with their sticky fingers leaving multicolored stains on her bare legs.

"I still don't see why we didn't wait until summer," she says, but is secretly glad for the overcast grey skies and the mist that hangs in the air. It feels like an entirely different place; a new place for new memories.

"And deal with all the tourists?" He wonders, shaking his head in disbelief. "No way. Give me a deserted beach any day."

"It is sort of peaceful," she concedes. "Which is nice after the month we've had."

Nick never told them the Grimm's name, only that he'd been declared too mentally unstable to stand trial and had been committed to hospital out of state. East Coast-out of state. Monroe was all too happy to hear the news; he'd lamented over that goose egg on her forehead and jumped at ever sound for a week after. Then again, so did she. Every so often, Rose felt eyes on the back of her neck when she was alone, unloading shipments or getting in or out of the car. She kept telling herself it was just stress. "But, I can't help but wonder if there was some other, particular reason for this weekend? Beyond a break?"

Monroe turns to her, scandalized. "What? I can't take you to the coast for the weekend without some nefarious reason?"

"I didn't say anything about this being 'nefarious', you did." She shrugs. "It's not my birthday or our anniversary or anything. I was just curious is all. Usually, you have a reason."

He wraps an arm around her waist. "I just wanted a weekend with you, you know, before the holiday craziness starts up." He pauses, glancing down at her. "There might be a few nefarious reasons, of course."

Rose clings back. "Good, because I have a few of those packed in my bag for later."

"God, I love you."

"Love me enough to explain to my mother why a Grimm is your best friend?" She wonders.

He groans. "I forgot about that. We should warn her before she gets here. No shock this time around. But somehow I feel like she'll take it better than my parents would."

She leads him to a rocky out crop and pulls him up next to her. She takes out her phone to start taking picture just as a loud hum of thunder breaks over them.

"Rose..." he warns and holds a hand out for her. "That sounds awful close."

"Don't worry, it's miles away. Besides, look how amazing the view is! I promised Dee and Mom that I'd take pictures." Just as she starts to point, a huge wave crashes into the outcropping, soaking her completely. For a second neither of them move. And of course, that's when it starts raining.

"Are you serious?" Rose groans as he grabs for her hands and pulls her along.

He's not as soaked as she is by the time they get back to the rental. When he goes to turn on the lights, nothing happens. He promised her a weekend off the grid, while the rental has most modern features, the lights should have turned on.

They turn to each other and Rose dissolves into laughter. "This is why no one goes to the beach in Oregon in November!" She guffaws.

For a few minutes they stand in the front hall and laugh until the chill from the night and oncoming storm make both of them start to shiver. They dig for flashlights and find two working ones and a box full of emergency candle under the kitchen sink. "Go," he tells her. "Get out of those before you catch a cold."

"How do I know you don't mean for nefarious reasons?" She calls, heading to the room anyway.

"Maybe I mean both!"

She laughs and digs through her bag for something warm. She peels off the wet layers and leaves them in the tub.

"Don't come out yet!"

"What?!"

"Don't come out yet!"

Rose rolls her eyes and pulls on her sweats and an over shirt. "How long do I have to wait?" She calls out.

"Just five me five minutes!"

Rose shakes out her hair and tries to salvage what she can. Not that it matters really. He couldn't care less what she looked like.

"Okay, you can come out now."

Rose opens the door to find the little cabin covered in the white emergency candles. She follows them out to the living room, to find him waiting for her. He holds his hands up as if excusing something: "I can tell you that this is not at all what I planned."

Rose stops short, the room's taken on a strange dream-like quality. She presses a hand to the wall, afraid that she'll pass right through. But it's solid and real. _This is real._ She keeps telling herself_._ "You said there wasn't a plan."

He shrugs. "Well, I guess I lied."

"Tell me the plan, then."

"Well, we were going to make dinner, have some wine and I was going to ask you something during dessert."

"And what was that?" She wonders and settles besides him on the loveseat, her head spinning already. _This is real._

He reaches over to his bag and pulls out a small black box, and hands it to her. Her heart contracts in her chest so hard she's worried it might actually stop. With shaking fingers, she pushes the lid back to reveal an elegant emerald ring. "Oh my God..." It all comes tumbling out in a single breath.

"I didn't account for the storm," he confesses. "I didn't think you'd want to a big to-do or anything... But, you said you liked the ocean. I mean, it's not New Zealand or Ireland— " She smiles at the memory. "—But I thought it might do."

She finally drags her eyes way from the ring. _This is real._

He plucks the ring out of the plush settings and holds it up. "This was my great grandmother's ring. And I found it when I was like twelve or something visiting my Great Uncle Olaf and then he died and my mom got all of his stuff and I remembered she had it and... I thought...I don't know...that you might like it."

Rose holds her fingers up to her mouth, the tears starting to cloud her vision. "I _love_ it...it's beautiful."

"Listen, I know things...didn't go as planned—"

"When have they ever?" She whispers.

"But," He tips her chin up, letting his thumb rest against her lower lip. "I want to keep having plans go awry with you for as long as I can. As long as you'll let me."

"I'd really rather not stop." Rose agrees.

"So..." Monroe holds her left hand lightly in his. "That leads me to the question I was going to ask."

"Oh, I think I know what it is. Though, I'm sort of surprised that I didn't realize that's what this trip was."

He groans. "Are you going to let me ask? I made up this whole speech and I was going to work up to it and—"

"Monroe...you can just ask."

"Rose, " Monroe lets out a deep breath. "Will you marry me?"

She knew this was coming; she knew that he was going say those five words. And still, the moment's taken on that surreal dream feeling and she can't be sure that he actually said them.

For so long she buried herself in her work, trying to undo the damage she'd wrought in her youth. She'd been alone, as a precaution and a punishment, and here's a lifetime laid before her. A promise and a real home. "Oh...God..." she mutters as it washes over her suddenly.

"Rose?" He reaches over and tucks her loose hair over her ear. "You okay?"

"Yes, of course." Rose slips her hands up to his face and pull him down to her. "Of course, I will." She whispers between kisses. "Did you even think I was going to say 'no'?"

"Well, after that month..." he shrugs.

She smiles, a little sadly. "I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life watching all of my plans go out the window with you." She assures him. "And fight with you about egg rolls. And...listen to you play cello."

He pulls back long enough to ask, half laughing: "Can I put the ring on, then?"

She nods and he slips it onto her left ring finger. Holding her hand out before her, it actually dawns on her; there's a man who loves her sitting next to her, the right kind of ring on the right finger. And it's shiny. She turns and wraps him up in her arms. "I love you. I love you so much."

He grins, leaning in to her. "I'm glad. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't have asked you."

Rose squeezes hard, her face presses into his neck. "So much. I need you to know that, all right?"

"All right," he agrees as she pulls back. "So, do I get points for surprising you?"

She nods and lets the happy tears loose. "Yeah, you get all the points, _Liebling_. All of them. As long as your surprises are like this one."

He cups her face between his hands and kisses her lightly. "I promise. All of them are going to be good like this. So, when do you want to— "

Rose cuts him off with another kiss, her fingers curling into his shirt collar. "Nope. Not gonna worry about that right now." She pulls him into her and he follows willingly, if not eagerly. "Deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

><p>She's never wished she could stop time as much as she wishes now. She'd fix the sun coming up and shining at just this angle. She'd keep the sound of the waves on repeat, with a smattering of gulls to break it up here and there. She'd keep the gentle but steady thrum of their hearts in time with their perfect little world, and them lying to skin to skin like this at the very center. It would be a very good life.<p>

"You're thinking so hard, you're practically humming," he murmurs into her hair. "I thought I fixed that." His fingers find all the indents and grooves and scars along the column of her spine.

Rose, draped over his chest, shifts, settling her chin on her hands and smiles up at him. "That's a temporary solution to a lifelong problem." The light catches her new ring. She twists it around her finger, getting used to the weight. She never thought it would happen to her, that she'd be here with a ring on her finger and a promise on her lips.

"I'm glad I can offer some relief; what are you thinking about so hard?"

She holds up her left hand between them. "Is...is this...what your dad meant when he said that thing about not telling them until it was too late?"

He lets out a deep breath and pulls her in closer. "I knew I wanted to propose and I wanted to use that ring and I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone...and well, you know how that went."

Rose settles her hand on his forearm, between them. In the weeks since the dinner debacle, he'd put on a good face but she caught him staring at his phone a few times, as if wiling them to call; she used to do the same thing in the early days. And the only thing she could do for him is press a hand to the back of his neck and tell him she loves him.

If he'd told them ahead of time, they wouldn't have come. They wouldn't have given him the ring on her finger. In the short amount of time it'd been in her possession, she'd become very attached to it. "I'm sorry, _Liebling_...I know how hard it's been for you."

He grips her hand. "I'm not. Not at all. I have you..."

"I was thinking too..."

He huffs out a breath. "Oh God, here we go."

Grinning, she reaches out and runs her hand along his bare, left wrist, tracing her fingers along the tan lines where his watch usually sits. "You know the whole engagement thing is sort of sexist... Only women wear something that says 'I'm engaged.' "

"And how do you propose we fix that?" He wonders.

She leans over to the beside table and grabs her father's watch. She settles back down against him, his arm comes around her like always. "The ring you gave me has been in your family for the last fifty years, right?"

"Yeah..."

"This," she holds the watch out to him. "Was my father's. His father gave it to him before he started work in Amsterdam. It hasn't been fifty years, but..." She looks up at him. "It's very special to me...Would you wear it?"

"I'd be honored." He kisses her temple and takes the watch from her. With careful ministrations, he straps it to his wrist; it's a perfect fit. "So, when people ask, I can point and say 'I'm engaged.'"

"That's a word I didn't think I'd use," she murmurs, tucking her head under his chin. "It sort of feels like a dream still. Like I haven't woken up yet."

"We don't have to. Not yet."

* * *

><p>The rest of the weekend passes in a happy haze. Thankfully, there are no more storms and the sun manages to sneak through the clouds a few times. Not enough to tempt them to even try swimming. However, that didn't stop her from taking off her shoes and running into the surf, letting the water lap at her ankles. She stands on the shore, staring out at the ocean- something she hadn't done since she was fifteen.<p>

But Sunday rolls around and their real life beckons them back to Portland. And as soon as they drive a mile from the cabin, both of their cell phones light up. "Well," She murmurs. "It was nice while it lasted..."

He smiles over at her. "It was."

"_Liebling_... now that we're... engaged..." Rose murmurs. "And we're in a good place...I don't want to wait anymore."

"Wait for what?"

She smiles. "For starting a family. I want one and you want one. And I don't really care if it's before we're married or after. I mean, that's just a piece of paper."

"So, I'm guessing that you don't want a long engagement, then?"

"Do you _really_ want a long engagement?" She wonders.

"Nope. Not any longer than it has to be."

"We don't need anything big or fancy. As long as its official..." she shakes her head. "That's all that I need."

"Are you sure about this?"

"I've done so much waiting before, you know? And so have you." She grips his arm. "And Dee is always telling me not to run away from things that make me happy. I want to jump in with both feet."

Monroe smiles at her. "I feel like I'd really like your sister. That is if she gets over the whole I'll-kill-you-if-you-hurt-my-sister thing."

"This might help convince her." Rose holds up her left hand, wiggling her ring finger. "But is this something you want?"

"A family with you?" He murmurs. "Like I have to think twice."

"I just thought...you know, with everything going on with your parents..."

He sighs. "If they want to change their mind, the door's open. But you are off limits. They don't get to say a thing about you." His mouth curls into a smile. "Or our kid."

_Our kid,_ Rose grins. _Our kid._ "Just to be clear, I'm not saying we try, specifically. But let whatever happens, happen."

"You want me to tell your Mom that, or do you want to?"

"Ha! Very funny. Besides, Dee will probably guess it before anyone. I swear to God, she could find dirt in a snowstorm. That reminds me, I need to call them. See if they still want to come to up for Thanksgiving."

"And if so, we're going to have to tell them about Nick and Juliette and Hank anyway. I suppose this is as good a time as any."

She reaches into the back and pulls out the bag of taffy. Yanking it open, she digs out a peppermint one for her self. "Do you want green apple or one that I think might be cherry?"

"Are you trying to distract me with highly processed sugar?"

"I think I've got peach, too. If that's more your thing. I should know your favorite saltwater taffy flavor if I'm going to be your wife."

"What are you worried about? Us? I thought you said your mom liked me."

"Oh, she does. It's Nick. You're going to ask him to be your best man and-"

"I haven't decided who-"

"Monroe, come on," she leans back against the seat. "Who else are you going to ask? If it hadn't been for him, we may not have met. She's going to have a heart attack..."

"She'll understand. I mean, there's not much left that can shock her."

"Yes, but this will. This might actually kill her."

"Rose, it's gonna be fine. Call her."

She rolls her eyes and dials. He reaches over for taffy and she yanks the bag away. "You were completely unhelpful."  
>"But!"<p>

"Hi Rosie, how was your weekend?"

"It's great. But I want to talk to you about Thanksgiving...I need to you sit and put me on speaker with De, okay?"

* * *

><p>"The door's open!" Monroe calls over his shoulder at the knock. Thanksgiving's rolled around and they were scheduled for a full house. Rose's first in a long, long while.<p>

Rose smiles. "Juliette's going to notice first." She mutters.

"Twenty bucks says it him."

"Seriously? We're going to bet money...on our friends? Bragging rights aren't enough?"

"Not nearly." He holds out his hand.

"Fine, twenty." She shakes. "_Archloch_."

"How was the coast?" Juliette wonders as she drops one of the two bags stuffed with various containers on the counter. She starts unloading, slowly moving Rose out of the way. Nick wanders in, leaning against the door jam into the kitchen.

"It was great," Rose grins. "There was a storm that knocked out the power for the night. But after that...it was great. No cellphone reception, no Wi-Fi. Total radio silence."

"Aw, that sounds wonderf-WAIT! What. Is. That?" Juliette shrieks and catches Rose's hand between hers.

"What?" Rose sneaks a glance over her shoulder at Monroe. She holds her left hand out. "This?"

"Oh my God, guys it's beautiful!" Juliette envelops her in a hug. "I'm so happy for you both!"

"What is?" Nick wonders.

Juliette holds Rose's left hand up for inspection. "This!"

"So you asked?!" Nick slaps Monroe's back. "Congrats, man!"

"And thanks to you, I'm out twenty bucks."

"What did I do now?" He starts to open a container but Juliette slaps his hand away.

"Out" Juliette orders. "Both of you, Monroe and I have a lot of cooking to do and you two are curses! Out!"

"Fine, we'll wait for Hank and Mom elsewhere!" She grabs two beers out of the fridge. She pauses, though, and kisses Monroe's cheek and whispers: "Still owe me that twenty bucks."

"Should have known better than to bet against a Fuschbau."

"Should have." Rose agrees and meets Nick and, now, Hank, who's carting his own six-pack of some sort of pumpkin, infused...something. He offers his congratulations to her and then dips into the kitchen to offer the same to Monroe.

"So your mom's coming?" Nick wonders.

"Yeah." Rose palms her beer. "Just no sudden movements, okay? Mom won't do anything but Dee might leap across the table at you."

"Dully noted."

Nick turns to her, smiling. "See, I knew it."

"Knew what?"

He points from her to the kitchen. "You two. I knew it."

"Jesus, maybe you and Dee _will_ get along."

"It's now or never. I just heard the car pull up."

Rose takes a swig and braces herself before getting up. "Remember, no sudden movements, okay?"

"I'm just sitting here, drinking beer and being calm." He shouts as she heads to meet her mom and Sister on the porch steps.

Dee immediately goes for Rose's left hand, like a shark to bait. "Whoa nelly! Look at this rock!"

"It's not a rock!" Rose insists. "It's vintage. It's been in his family for a long time."

"Oh honey, it's beautiful." Their mother chimes in, before kissing her cheek.

"Please tell me that one is not the Grimm." Dee points to Hank through the window.

"No that's Hank, he's a _Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen. _ So's Juliette. They know about us. And they're not going to ask any weird questions—we've already run the gambit on them."

"Rosie...you have a Grimm in your house." Her mother murmurs.

"Yeah, I know. But he's a good man. He's risked his life for us on multiple occasions. He's not going to do anything to us. I swear. You've got to trust me on this, okay?"

Her mother settles her hand in Rose's. "Okay. Let's go. But if he tries to chop off my head, you and I are going to have words, young lady."

"Okay, Mom." Rose hooks her mother's arm in hers and leads her up the stairs.

And suddenly, it wasn't so scary. Her mother took a liking to Hank right away (as did Dee but it was a liking of a totally different nature) and even warmed to Nick. But by the time they'd all hit their second drink, Rose had a feeling things could actually work out.

Thanksgiving had been the last holiday she remembers with her father. She'd pulled herself together long enough to stop in for dinner. Her father had been so thin, frailer than she'd ever seen him. And his hands ice cold when he settled them on hers. DeEtta said nothing about Rose's absence or rumored whereabouts, even Freddy seemed to come out of his usually elsewhere-fog. Her mother fretted, telling Rose she was too thin (like always).

But all of that vanished when they sat down together. It was the very last time she remembered her father laughing.

And now, she surveyed her table, taking note of its fullness and the healthy (if not slightly alcohol induced) glow of those who sat there.

"You okay?" Monroe whispers to her.

She slips her fingers into his hand. "I'm fine. Just happy."

* * *

><p>So, I've got one last arc planned- still working a few details. But we're closing all the threads, friends. but don't expect it until next month at the earliest. Suddenly I have everything in the world on my plate and this is, sadly, going to have to take a back seat.<p>

But don't worry I have an epilogue that is so insanely cute, it'll kill you all. It's gonna be great.

R&R?


	16. one by one

And so we have part one of the last arc. I found some time to play around and had a lot of fun with this.

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all

* * *

><p><em><strong>"...<strong>__**It wasn't anything or anybody/ It wasn't the wind/ It wasn't the orange-colored noontime/ Or night over the earth/ It wasn't even the nose or the elbow/ Or the hips getting bigger/ or the ankle/ or the air./ The plate broke, the lamp fell/ All the flower pots tumbled over/ one by one..." Pablo Naruda "Ode to Broken Things" **_

* * *

><p>Rose hates to admit the Christmas lights in the window have helped up sales this season. Camilla suggested that she come up with some special holiday themed soaps or teas. And even though it's the last thing she wants to do, Rose has to consider it. The frankincense soap she threw together this morning is all but gone and she's got at least ten more orders to fill for the next week. She made lists of all the possible combinations for Christmas-themed soaps, each complete with their own memories and their own form of hell. Given that she lives with the biggest Christmas nut in the state, Monroe would know which will sell and which ones won't. She sticks the list on her pocket for later and starts closing down.<p>

Gathering up the till that she plans to take to the bank tomorrow, she turns out the lights and locks the door behind her. Holding her keys lightly in her hands, she reaches her car and stops, feeling eyes on her back. All the while hating the fear that grew again; she thought she'd been rid of it.

She turns and sees nothing beyond the ordinary; a few cars pass her on the street, the streetlamps flicker on in the winter dark. Rose lets out a deep breath that clouds before her. Shaking her head against her silliness, she sticks her key in the lock. And then she smells it. The unmistakable smell that Nick always carries with him; sort of like gasoline and just the faint trace of blood. _Grimm_.

"Don't move." A low, raspy voice growls at her back. Something sharp jabs into her back through her coat. "Give me your bag."

Slowly, Rose hands her bag over, mentally kicking herself for not seeing it sooner. "I'm just going to cancel the cards." She spits.

The person snorts and says nothing further.

Rose tries to sneak a peak of the thief's reflection in the car's window, but they aren't having it. The most she can make out is black hair and the same dark infinite eyes as Nick's—though they lack his warmth. Rose locks her fingers together and take a deep breath before sidestepping and swiping at her attacker. The knife clatters to the ground beside them and Rose gets one good right hook in, woging in the process.

Her attacker swears as Rose grabs for the knife—really, a machete— and holds it against her attacker's throat. "You are not my first or my second Grimm," Rose growls. "Don't even think about trying anything funny." Rose grabs for her phone and dials Nick's number, retracting once again.

"Rosalee? Where are you?" Nick wonders.

"I'm still at the shop."

"Well, when are you getting here? Should we order you a drink?...Wait...wait, what? Oh, Juliette wants to know if you want to share an appetizer—"

"Nick...Nick, I need you to focus for a second, okay?"

Instantly all the laughter's gone from Nick's voice. "What's wrong?"

"I sort of just got robbed at knife point."

The attacker groans beside her and pulls at the beanie off, revealing a girl no more than twenty. Her black hair shoots in every direction once it's free of the hat. She reaches up and rubs at her cheek, a bruise already blooming. But her dark eyes show no mercy.

"What?! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I have...her..."

"I'm calling Hank and sending a car over there—"

"Nick, she's a Grimm. I need _you_ here, now."

"We're on our way. Just stay calm, okay?"

"Yeah..." Rose clicks off the call.

The Grimm girl sits up a little farther, her eyes never leaving Rose. "You call some monster friends to finish the job?" She spits, all fury and fire. Her long fingers clench into ready fists, long pearly scars shine under the streetlamp. But there is no fear in her, anywhere. Not yet at least.

And in an instant, Rose sees herself. Small and skinny and burning with anger just to stay alive. She swallows hard. "Maybe." Rose retorts. "How long did you case the out this place?"

The girl scoffs again.

"Well, you didn't kill me, so you really were after the cash. Can't trace a cash haul this small."

The girl looks up at Rose, eyes narrowed in confusion.

"You could have just killed me and we wouldn't be here, would we? So, how long?"

She wipes her hand under nose. "About two weeks."

Rose nods. "You're brave, I'll give you that. But stupid. Or just hungry." She notices the dark circles under the girl's eyes, the hollows of her cheeks. She pulls the knife away and points toward the shop. "Come on, let's get inside before we freeze."

"What?"

"It's gonna take Nick a bit to get here. And I'm dying. Unless you want to catch pneumonia."

"Nick? Nick Burkhardt?" The girl scrambles to her feet.

Rose turns, but keeps the machete with her. "Does that name mean something to you?"

She shrugs as Rose unlocks the door. She turns on the Christmas lights in the window and enough light to keep it cozy, inviting. "I've just... heard of him is all."

"What's _your _name?" Rose wonders as she starts heating up the kettle.

The girl raps her knuckles across the front counter in a nervous staccato. "Trouble...They call me Trouble."

_A fake name_. Rose smiles. How many times she'd call herself Suzy or Tara or some other name that didn't sound anything like hers? So many that she'd lost count. "And not 'Impetuous'? Or 'Tempestuous'?"

Trouble smiles and softens just a touch.

"Roll up your sleeves to the elbows." Rose instructs.

"What?"

"You're not on anything, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

"Forgive me for not quite believing you, yet. Considering you won't give me your real name."

Reluctantly, Trouble shrugs off her jacket and rolls up her sleeves, showing Rose the insides of her elbows. "That good enough for you?" But she doesn't offer her name.

"There's a couch in the back room and a blanket if you want to warm up. I've got tea almost ready."

"Why are you doing this?" The girl backs away a few steps. "What's your angle?"

Rose has to stop. She hears her own voice asking that question of Ian, of her brother, of De Groot and Alexander. She remembers thinking the same thing of Monroe but never speaking the words.

Pulling down the chamomile, she turns to Trouble. "You seemed cold and tired. So, I thought you might like tea. It's what my parents would have done."

Trouble watches her with wide eyes. She hands the girl a mug the same time that the shop door opens. Nick and Hank run in first, guns drawn and the girl shrinks back against the counter, her shoulders already set and ready for a fight. They pause at the scene before them as Monroe and Juliette spill across the threshold behind them.

Juliette pokes her head around Monroe's shoulder and is the first to find her voice. "Correct me if I'm wrong but I thought Nick said this girl robbed you."

"She tried." Rose insists. "Clearly, it didn't work out."

Both Nick and Hank put their guns away.

"And you're giving her tea?" Monroe wonders.

"It's cold out." Rose shrugs.

"You're Nick?" Trouble asks. "You?"

"I think you two have some stuff to work out." Rose insists. "You can use the back room."

Hank grins and leaves one hand on her shoulder before he wanders to the back of the shop. As she passes Nick, she stops him. "She knew your name, Nick. First and last. Hank and I suspected that Grimm that you sent out of state last month might have had an accomplice..." She nods toward the girl.

Nick runs his hand over his mouth. "You think she helped him kill those people?"

"She could have killed me...she had the opportunity. But she didn't. Look, she...she's hungry and scared and..."

Juliette steps up behind them. "Don't worry, Nick's a softie when it comes to kids." She gives Rose a two-finger salute. "I've got him. We still on for tomorrow?"

" Of course." That just leaves Rose and Monroe at the front counter. She cradles the mug before her and winces at the sudden smell of frankincense from her fingers.

Monroe leans against the wall. "So, I'm not gonna lie, I might have had a mini freak out when Nick told us what happened."

She grins. "Yeah?"

"Well, yeah." He shrugs with a small smile, trying to draw one out of her. "Must be something about you that I like."

"Can't imagine what that might be." She whispers. Her eyes flick up to his. The words are right but the tone is far less flirty than she wants.

"Are you sure you okay?" He wonders. "Really?"

She rolls her shoulders as if to rid herself of the tension. "It was a little bit of scare, I admit But it's nothing a bath can't fix."

* * *

><p>Sinking into the bath was not as relaxing as she'd hoped. She cupped a palmful of water up to her face to wash her makeup off. And suddenly, the whole bathroom smells like frankincense, thick and coyling. And she can't escape it.<p>

Her parents burned it at Christmas. Her father used to joke they were keeping with ancient holiday traditions. They made so many frankincense and beeswax candles in October and November that they took up a whole bookshelf in the backroom of the shop. Dee, Freddy and Rose used to spend every Saturday from the time school started until the middle of December rolling those stupid candles. For weeks afterward, Rose insisted that the shop smelled like the candles and refused to go into the backroom.

Shuddering at the memories, she scrubs her hands until they're red and smooth and the water's gone a little cold. The smell is gone for now.

But the memories are not so easily scrubbed away. For a moment, all she can hear is the girl's gruff words but in her own voice; a person she barely recognizes, let alone knows now. That bright consuming anger kept her alive; angry at her father for leaving, angry at her mother for not understanding. And so angry with herself at not being better

But that anger couldn't last, it always ebbed. Leaving her in dark alleyways and sorrow, only fear that needed to be pushed aside. To be forgotten with chemical help, in houses she didn't know.

She sniffs hard and it echoes uncomfortably loud in the bathroom. Breathing deep, Rose can hear the house settling around her, the notes from Monroe's cello rising up to her. Half her clothes hang in the closet here, there is a place for her on the couch. Her coffee mugs and boots and scarves all have a place. Rose is not that angry girl anymore, she keeps telling herself. She is not afraid, not desperate. Not anymore.

And still, every year like clockwork, she remembers something else from her childhood that she'd kept locked away, like the stupid candles they all hated. And every year, her father and the life she used to have feels farther and farther away.

Tonight, she slips into one of Monroe's shirts and crawls into bed, too tired and too brain scrambled to eat. Curling into herself, she can't seem to unclench her limbs or her spine. But the house is quiet and the bed's warm. And she can still hear Monroe practicing as she closes her eyes. She must have dropped off because the next thing she knows, he's settling in beside her, trying to be quiet and failing.

Rose turns over, not saying anything. Just watching him pull the covers up to his chest, finding comfort in the familiar rhythms of the life they've built here.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," he murmurs. "Go back to sleep."

Scooting closer, Rose tucks herself under his chin and closes her eyes again. His warmth relaxes her tense muscles, uncoils her spine.

He cradles her head against his shoulder, fingers slipping through her hair. He drops a kiss on the top of her head and she relaxes farther into him. The only thing she can hear is his breath and despite that, she can't help the tears that leak out of her eyes. If he notices, he says nothing. She can count on one hand how many times she's cried this house and knows that, in and of itself, is a kind of miracle.

* * *

><p>Rose grimaces at herself in the mirror, she tugs at the sides of the bodice but it pinches still; she just can't get comfortable. She can't even make herself out in this one. "I think it's a little too much." She says finally. Maybe it's just all too much, too much too soon. She keeps thinking. But Juliette's been looking forward to this since Thanksgiving and she's got to get it done anyway.<p>

"Too much?" The dress store clerk asks in her perky way. "Where?"

"Everywhere?" She picks at the full skirt. "It's so... poufy."

"But you look like a princess," the clerk insists.

"And there's the central problem." Rose lifts a few more layers and still can't find her feet. "Do you have something less...poufy!"

"Well, what do you have in mind?"

"Simple." Juliette suggests from Rose's other side. "Not a lot of flair?"

The clerk goes to check grab even more dresses to torture Rose with and Rose carefully steps off the dais. "I need your help getting out of this."

Juliette starts with the row of buttons down the back. "Yeah, the buttons alone were gonna be a 'no' for me. I plan on everyone getting very drunk at this wedding and I can't imagine you getting this thing off without a pair of gardening shears."

"That's what every woman wants to hear on her wedding night," Rose laughs.

"'Honey, where'd you put the gardening shears? I can't get your damn dress off.'"

Juliette giggles as she helps to steady Rose as she steps out of the dress. "Yeah, I can't let that happen. Here, gimme the dress and I'll hang it. Try that one." Juliette points to a lacy one, tea length and a square neck.

"Your wish is my command." Rose replies as Juliette exits the room. When Rose emerges, she catches Juliette playing with one of the many tulle folds of the dress, smiling. "So, do you ever think about this?" Rose asks as she turns for Juliette to zip her up. "Getting married, I mean?"

"Aren't you already taken?"

"You know what I mean."

"I don't know," Juliette helps her on the dais again. "I don't know. Things are good now. Steady. But today is not about me. What do you think?"

"Better." Rose tugs at the A-line skirt. "The bodice is a little tight but I like that it's not very showy. It's kinda simple."

Juliette claps in happiness. "Yay! Progress!"

"Does that mean we get to eat?"

"Nope. You need to try a few more on."

"And then food?"

Juliette grips her hand tight. "And then food. On to the next!"

Rose hops off again and sees the clerk has brought a few more to her changing room; two more with tulle but short and one that has a high empire waist but strapless. As Rose's pulling it up over her hips, Juliette's voice comes through the curtain. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Isn't this something that Moms or sisters are usually here for? Not that I'm not having fun or anything... And your Mom and sister live here in Oregon and are pretty delightful from what I remember. Well, your mom at least."

"I would but...this is not exactly the best time for my family. We have...unpleasant associations with the happiest time of the year. And it's just better if we spend it apart."

"I see..."

"Besides my mom would just remind me that I could wear my grandmother's dress and I can't..."

"Because it doesn't fit?"

Rose sighs heavily and gives one final tug on the bodice. She pushes aside the curtain. "No, because it's cursed."

"What? What's cursed?" And steps back in awe. "Wow...I really like this one...like, a lot."

"Yeah?" Rose walks to the dais.

"Yeah, you look like some sort of ethereal moon goddess or something." Juliette says as she helps Rose up once again.

Rose looks up at herself. Juliette's right, the white's more champagne and the filigree belt is bronzeish-gold. The rest is hidden in soft lines, wavy but not overpowering. "Goddess... now that's a title I can get used to."

"So, what's cursed?"

"Huh?"

"You were saying something was cursed?"

"Oh...my grandmother's wedding dress. Dee got married both times in it and they both sort of fell through."

"Yeah, that's the kind of vibe I got off her." Juliette agrees. "I mean, she's a riot and everything. And the life of the party. I think Poor Hank might be in love again."

Dee had made no secret what she thought of Hank; she flirted unabashedly and outrageously with him and pressed her phone number into his hand when she and Gloria were on the way out. And Hank was smitten.

"Well, he'd be one of the only ones that I like."

"So what do you think about this one?"  
>Rose shrugs. "I kinda like it. Maybe put this one on hold too?"<p>

Juliette gives her a thumbs up.

"So we met for coffee and have hit four dress shops and you haven't said a word about the girl."

"That's because today is about you." Juliette insists and pulls down another dress.

"We're going to have a lot of days about me in the future." Rose insists and tugs on her sleeve. "Come on."

Juliette sighs. "She's been on her own since she was seventeen. In and out of mental institutes because...because no ever told her. And she eats like she's never seen food before."

Rose shakes her head. "It's just she looked so...lost and I just..."

"You and Nick, such softies when it comes to kids." Juliette grins. "We're keeping her for a while, she needs someplace soft to land."

"What...what's her name?" Rose wonders. "Her real name?"

Juliette plays with the dress' skirt. "Theresa. Theresa Rubel."

Rose shakes her head. "I get the nickname now. ... Trouble..."

"It does tend to follow her wherever she goes. But it kinda worries me that she calls herself that...you know? She calls herself that long enough, it's the only thing she'll believe."

* * *

><p>A long skinny white box is waiting for her on the kitchen table that night. "<em>Liebling<em>?" She calls as she drops off her bag and pulls off her coat. "Where did this come from?"

"It's addressed to you, I thought you ordered something for the wedding." He appears in the kitchen doorway. "You were order crazy the other day."

"We have to get save-the-dates out since you're the one that wants a big to do." She replies.

"It's not a 'to do'," he insists. "We decided, together, that we wanted to celebrate with our friends and family." He settles his hands on her shoulders, repeating what he's been saying since the day after Thanksgiving when he had to talk her down from flying to Vegas or just going down to the Courthouse. "We've figured out all the basics: You and me, Hank and Nick, Juliette and Dee. And Malena agreed to be the flower girl. We're keeping it simple."

Rose nods and repeats a she's done before: "Simple."

"Your mom wants to be a part of this. She missed out on a lot before..."

She hangs her head. What was it that she told De Groot a little over a year ago? That she was runner. She always was a runner. And she had to learn to stay. Rose grips Monroe's hands in hers.

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, I swear. She...she just looked so sad when she said it. And I couldn't say 'no' to her."

Rose remembers. She watched them in the kitchen, waiting for the pies to be finished. She was too far away and had too many glasses of wine to focus properly. But her mother had looked so sad for a moment that Rose thought she had dreamed it. And Monroe had hugged her and led her back to the table. Her mother had taken her hand and whispered: "You are so very lucky, Honey."

"I know," she'd said, turning back to see him and Juliette in the kitchen. "I know." And her heart ached with the fullness.

Rose closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "I know... I'm sorry; it's just the holiday and... Trubel... "

"You're not getting cold feet on me, are you?" He wonders, cupping her face in his hands.

"No, _Liebling_, no. Of course not." Rose threads her arms around him, settling her cheek in the hollow of his throat. His heart beats softly against her ear; constant and true. She grips him a little more tightly and his hand settles on the back of her head. "You are a good man. And I can't wait to be married to you." She murmurs.

"Rose, we don't have secrets. You can tell me."

She pulls back to look him in the eye. "It's my Dad. He never...He's never going to see how I've fixed things...you know, with Mom and Dee." She grips his left wrist where her father's watch sits. "He won't ever meet you...And he's not going to be there to walk me down the aisle."

"Oh, Rose..."

"Part of me just wants to sign the papers and just... be done with it. It's nothing to do with you. At all. It's him and Trubel...God, Monroe, it was like looking in a mirror or a wormhole or something. I was her... so many years ago. And, I just... just the look in her eyes. I saw myself, stupid, confused, angry me. "

He brushes his hand through her hair and she leans into his touch. "I'm so sorry, _Liebling_."

"Just...don't tell my mom about this?" She wipes her hand over her eyes. "She doesn't need to feel any more guilty or anything, okay?"

"Not a word," he promises, tipping her chin up for a kiss. "So, do you want to see what's in the box?" he nudges her toward the table.

She reaches up and kisses his cheek before she turns back to the box. Dragging

her keys along the middle seam, Rose pries the sides apart and groans. "I thought Dee burned this years ago."

"Burned what?"

She holds it up by the shoulders, gingerly. "My grandmother's wedding dress."  
>Monroe claps his hand over his eyes. "Rose, I'm not supposed to see it yet! It's bad luck!"<p>

"I'm not wearing this monstrosity so you can look," she grabs his arm to peel his hand away from his face. "I need someone else to revel in how terrible it is."

He does finally and winces. "_Liebling_, I'm no expert on fashion or anything, but...um..."  
>"Yeah, no, it's not happening." She grabs her phone. "I'm going to kill Dee!"<p>

"You know, she's kinda grown on me." He kisses her temple. "Dinner'll be ready in a few."

"Do I have time to yell at Dee or should I just text?"

"I think a warning text and then you can yell at her afterward."

"And give her a heads up? No way." She follows him into the kitchen. "You're an only child, you don't understand. The element of surprise is your best friend when dealing with older siblings."

There's knock at the door. Rose frowns. "_Liebling_, are you expecting anyone?"

He turns when there's another knock. "No, no, I'm not."

Rose heads to the door, popping up on her tiptoes to peek out the window and gasps: "Fuck." She wrenches open the door to reveal a rain soaked Ian Harmon.

He grins, sheepishly. "Hello, Love."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

He turns around, glancing about. "Freezing, to be honest."

* * *

><p>I told you guys I was going to wrap up all the strings.<p> 


	17. dangerous fragility

WOW, I did not expect this chapter to take this long but life got in the way. I've also been working on the last three chapters sort of in tandem so that means it takes like three times as long

but the wait for the next chapter should not be nearly as long, I swear

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all

* * *

><p><em>"<strong>... Life goes on grinding up <strong>**/ ****glass, wearing out clothes ****/ ****making fragments/ breaking down ****/ ****forms/ and what lasts through time/ is like an island on a ship in the sea, ****/****perishable/ surrounded by dangerous fragility/ by merciless waters and threats..." Pablo Naruda "Ode to Broken Things"**_

* * *

><p>Rose grips the door handle. "I mean, what the fuck are you doing at my house, unannounced?"<p>

Ian frowns and checks the house number again. Shaking his head, he goes back to focusing on her. "Listen, I need your help—"

"And you thought you could just show up, no questions asked? And I'd jump? Like I used to?"

"I just want to talk."

She sighs as she hears Monroe walk up behind her. "What's...Ian?"

"S'good to see you again as well." Ian gives him a little salute.

"Ian wants to talk," Rose says to Monroe over her shoulder.

"About what?"

Rose shrugs and turns to Ian. "Well?"

"Couldn't we talk inside, love? It's awfully cold out here."

Monroe looks to her and when she nods he lets Ian in. Rose gives one last glance at the street to be sure he wasn't followed and deadbolts the door behind them.

"But I know that's not why you're really here."

Ian sighs. "My Portland Sleeper Cell contact... There's been some conflicting intelligence coming in. Have you seen her lately?"  
>"Inez? The last time was when we had the rampaging Grimm. She very strongly implied it was Nick..." Rose taps her chin and looks to Monroe as he returns. "Other than that, she's been quiet lately. No waves."<p>

"Did she came to you with information about that Grimm ?"

"Yes. She brought me the Endezeichen symbol on a piece of paper. Told me that all the victims had been Wesen. Someone else told me that all the victims were Blutbad and Fuchsbau. Inez said nothing about it."

"You didn't tell me that." Monroe says quietly. Rose settles for an apologetic look and settling her hand on his wrist_. _

Ian runs his hand over his face. "Fuck." He growls. "Jesus Inez!"

"What?" Rose grips Monroe's wrist a little tighter. "What's wrong?"

"There are questions about Inez's ultimate loyalty from the higher ups."

"Wait, so you think Inez betrayed the Resistance?" Monroe whispers. "Inez who helped us save Nick?"

"I'm putting my bets on her. She thinks she can play two sides against the middle." Ian groans. "She's smart, ambitious and fearless."

"Did she bring the Endezeichen Grimm here?" Rose demands. "To prove something? Or to go after Adalind's baby?"

Ian pales. "Nick Burkhardt is a Grimm who does not answer the Royals. He hasn't aligned himself with the Resistance and so, he's a threat. Inez is simply a means to an end. And if she can get information on Adalind's baby, all the better."

Monroe's hand wraps around Rose's shoulders. "And the PWO? Did she contact them?"

"I don't think so. She wanted a piece of the action and the PWO doesn't pay."

"So, what does that mean for us?"

Ian shakes his head. "Rosie, I did not come here to ask you to move heaven and earth for me, I swear, but..."

"Inez carrying out missions for the Resistance is one thing." Rose turns to Monroe. "If she's double dealing with the Royals, she has to be stopped. For all our sakes."

"I hate to ask it but: you still have that Grimm's number?"

"If this is as bad as you think it is," Monroe pulls out his phone. "I'm calling him now."

They watch him disappear into the kitchen and Ian follows her into the dining room where the dress is still sitting half out of the box. Ian stops, staring for a moment. "I stopped by your brother's place... Looks different..."

"Don't pretend you don't know."

Ian grins. "For a stoic fellow, Alexander has a big mouth."

"So, you've been checking up on me?"

"You think I'd let you vanish into the land of suburbia without, at least, making sure you were safe?"

"This is not suburbia." Rose insists. "We live in close-in South East which is a very hip neighborhood, I'll have you know. We live in walking distance to four yoga studios, three coffee shops that serve matcha and a Cambodian take out place. This is the opposite of suburbia."

"Still sounds like suburbia to me. Just the Portland version."

"If you say so," she waves her hand at him.

Suddenly, he pales. There's just a hint of savage pleasure curling in base of her belly at the sight of Ian struck dumb by the ring on her finger. And just as quickly as it comes, it dissipates and all she feels is shame. "Yeah...About that..."

"So, that's the reason for the move to suburbia... How long?"

"About a month now. We're getting married in the spring."

"Congratulations, Rosie." He murmurs as she takes the box off the table, hastily stuffing the dress back inside. "Really."

Once she couldn't wait to tell him that she chose someone else. To prove that she didn't need him. That she deserved more than secret meetings and hushed kisses in dark alleys so no one would see. When it was finally over, Rose remembers sitting looking up at her sliding glass door and wondering if she'd ever be okay again. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass and white knuckling herself to keep to go looking for relief.

"Thank you," she says finally to Ian.

Ian nods at Monroe as he comes back in. "Nick won't be by until tomorrow. He's got a late shift tonight."

"Is he bringing Trubel with him?"

"He didn't specify. But I assume so."

"I rather thought I was the one bringing trouble." Ian interjects.

Rose glares.

"I do believe that that's a sign for me to leave." Ian gives them both a short salute and disappears into the night.

"Are we about to have a thoroughly unpleasant conversation?" Rose wonders, staring at the door. "One that might ruin the whole night?"

He shrugs. "It depends."

"On what?"

"On whether or not or not you'd be mad if I want to throw him off the St. John's bridge?"

"In this scenario, do I get to help?" And it's enough for him to crack a smile. Rose squeezes his hand.

"I'd hope so. But I was thinking it'd be a solo mission, actually."

"We're getting married in six months; there shouldn't be solo missions." She insists.

"Only when you get that look on your face."

"What look?"

Monroe sighs. "It's just...you have this look on your face when ever you bring Ian up or he sticks his nose in our life." He shrugs. "You were so...scared last time, and it was so unlike you... I hated seeing you like that."

"How did I look?"

"Small." He shrugs. "It was the first time I ever thought you looked small...Like maybe you were going to break. And that was so unlike you... I just wanted _you_ back."

_Her_. For all her sarcasm and lies and harshness. He wanted _her_ back. That her. She grins. "I am going to put this on the record, though: I'm not into husband-wife-murder sprees, okay?"

He laughs. "I'll save that for my next wife."

Rose chuckles, looping her arms around him. "Like I'm letting you get a second one." She grins and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. His hands settle on her hips, fingers spreading out and gripping a little tighter than normal. She breaks the kiss for a moment and he pulls her back in. "What about dinner?" She breathes.

"It'll keep..." he murmurs back as he grips her tighter. His lips brush over her ear and down the edge of her jaw.

Giggling, Rose pulls him in closer, curving around all the places he touches. "I guess you're not hungry."

"I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks...not like this," he murmurs against her mouth. "I miss you." Most nights lately, she'd come home from work and he'd be on the phone with someone, some relative or the venue. And then, of course, she'd have her own calls to make. Or one (or both) of them is out with Nick. And they come home to find the other already passed out on the couch or in bed. Or like last night, when she'd been a puddle of raw emotion and couldn't string words together into a coherent sentence. The only thing that made sense was the sound of his heart beating against her palm.

"We do seem to keep missing each other..." Rose meets him in a kiss. She slides her hand over his shoulders, pushing his sweater off; he lets go of her to pull it the rest of the way off. And she seizes the opportunity to slip her hands up over his cheekbones and press herself against him.

She grins at the little growl that escapes him. His sweater slips to the floor as his hands return to her, fingers sliding under her top and up her rib cage. She hooks one finger into his belt loop and can't stop kissing him as he presses her against the doorway.

He tugs her blouse up and over her head and tosses it away. He pauses, staring at her.

"What?" She wonders. "It's nothing you haven't seen before."

Instead of answering, he leans down and kisses the scar that rips across her shoulder, one hand splayed possessively across the small of her back. The first time he ever kissed her, he ran his thumb over her shoulder and wanted to fix things. After all, it's what he does— fixes broken things. Rose leans her forehead against his temple and sighs.

Her phone rings out on the table, where it's been utterly forgotten, and they both pause. She groans, "Seriously? Right now?" Her sister's name flashes across the screen. "It's probably wedding stuff..."

He sighs, presses his lips to her cheek one last time and backs away.

"But it can wait until later..." she clicks it off and grabs him by the shirt collar. "I miss you, too. But I have to know, this has nothing to do with Ian, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's not some caveman need to prove something...is it?"

"If you wanted to be with him, you wouldn't be here." He says quietly, sinking his hands in her hair up to his wrist.

Happiness bubbles up in her throat. It does at moments like this when words are no longer necessary between them. With some of the others, there were heated directions and proclamations, there was giving and taking but here and now, there's only giving and giving and loving. After, his fingers settle delicately on her shoulder, thumb tracing the scar that ripples across her deltoid, while she curls herself under his arm and closes her eyes. No question and no uncertainty. Just steady, calm like a constant rolling of a wave that has no end.

When she opens her eyes again, the shifting lights on the bedroom wall tells her nothing new now that Daylight Savings has come and gone, leaving them with maybe six hours of light as they march closer and closer to Christmas. She stretches out and then scoots closer, noticing Monroe's already awake, or still awake and smiling down at her. "Have a nice nap?"

She grins and pulls the sheet up a little higher. "I didn't mean to... but you know well I sleep afterward. What time is it?"

"Not very late." He reaches out and strokes her hair.

"Hmmm... Then, I should probably call Dee back and my mom and the caterer and the florist and—" But he presses a kiss to her lips to silence her. Once again, she lets the words go because they don't matter. She slips her hand along the back of his head, holding him there.

"Where are you?" He murmurs.

"I'm here with you." She whispers and closes her eyes for a moment. "I'm here."

He grins, catches her hands and presses a kiss to each palm. "I'm glad."

He said he wasn't jealous. She runs her fingers up to his face, her thumbs tracing the lines she knows by heart now. "You're good to me in ways I didn't even know existed. And I wouldn't trade that for anything." And she wouldn't, she knew in that instance. She would take those lonely days upon days upon days of uncertainty, and of fear. She'd take the withdrawal days again and again. She would take the years she spent lost, just so she could end up right here. "Not for a minute."

"Not even a second?" He wonders, leaning his mouth against the heel of her right hand.

"Not even then."

And then her stomach lets out a loud growl. He laughs and leans over to kiss her forehead. "I think that's a sign that it's time for dinner." He reaches over for clothes. "I'll bring some up."

"Thank you,_ Liebling_!" She reaches for one of his shirts. She bundles herself into bed, leaning back against the headboard. She grabs her phone from under the bed and shuffles through it and stops suddenly at a text from an unknown number:_ I'm sorry to invade your life like this. Please, Rosie...I really need your help._

Rose clicks out and tosses it away from her; she pulls her knees up to chest and loops her arms around them. Monroe finds her nearly gnawing off her lip. "You miss me that much?"

"It's all the oxytocin," Rose smiles, accepting the bowl of vegetarian chili. "Told you, it makes you all clingy."

He stops, stares a moment at her, before sitting. "You have that look again..."

"It's been a long few days." She murmurs. "Ghosts are exhausting, you know?"

"I know." He smiles at her, and it's like the sun coming out. "But they pass, eventually. I promise."

Rose leans over and settles her forehead against his shoulder. "I like your promises."

* * *

><p>Rose runs her hand over her forehead, a headache already forming. Trubel sits folded up in a corner of the couch, not entirely sure what she should be doing, let alone what's going on. Rose lays a hand on the girl's shoulder as she sweeps around the room.<p>

"Inez's going to cause a lot of problems if she goes unchecked." Ian spills to Nick and Hank. "I need your help to bring her in."

"So, she's the reason that the crazy Grimm almost killed Rosalee and me?"

Ian looks up at her. "Rosie, I didn't know about this... I swear."

Rose leans against Monroe's shoulder and just shakes her head. "Inez doesn't care who she hurts." Rose grimaces. "She could destroy everything we've built here in the last year— in weeks."

"No doubt they've already offered her something for your demise." Ian nods toward Nick. "Its just a matter of time before she comes for you. Or more likely, sends someone for you. Too smart to get her own hands bloody."

Nick runs his hand s through his hair. "Shouldn't we run this by the Captain?"

Ian shrugs. "If you'd like. Though, I'm going to guess he'll agree with me. Chaos is the last thing he wants. Any of us want. Look, I wouldn't ask for your help, unless I absolutely needed it." Ian stresses. "I can't let her do that."

"And what happens to her after you've brought her in?" Trubel wonders suddenly. Everyone turns to her. "What are you going to do with her?"

"That's not for me to decide." Ian says quietly. "She'll have to be brought before the people I report to. She made this choice and now she'll have to live with it."

Trubel takes a deep breath. "I only heard her on the phone once. With Josh."

"Josh?"

Trubel nods. "The...Grimm who hit you and Hank with his car...He picked me up outside of Chicago three months ago. Saved me from a pack of Hjundagers. Told me what I was." Trubel confesses, head down. "He showed me a lot."

"And how did you know it was Inez that brought you here?" Ian wonders carefully; in an instant, Rose is back to the apartment on Oosteinde Street all those years ago. It sends shivers down Rose's spine.

"He said her name. I don't know how she got his number or anything. He was surprised at first. But that's how he knew to come here." When Trubel looks up from her clasped hands again, all Rose can see is shame. "Said things about Nick... about how he was dishonoring our ancestors... I didn't know. I thought..."

Nick reaches out to settle a hand on Trubel's shoulder but she flinches away at first. And it sends a splintering crack through Rose's heart. She pulls herself up and away. Monroe squeezes her hand and watches her go.

She disappears into the kitchen, plays with a few wine bottles just to give herself something to do. Because all she can see is twenty-three year old her, addict-skinny and flinching from everyone and everything. There's a sound behind her and Rose turns, ready for a fight. When she sees its Trubel, she relaxes. "Jeez, you and Nick do that sneaking up thing a little too well."

Trubel smiles but then it fades almost immediately.

"Can I get you something?" Rose offers.

"I just...you seem really upset. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I was just being honest. "

Rose shakes her head. "You haven't offended me at all, I promise." Rose grips her arm. "Believe me when I say, I've been there, I know what it's like to feel alone...And that there are limited options for help."

"Junkie?" Trubel wonders. "It makes sense why you made me to roll up my sleeves."

"In a manner of speaking. But not for a few years." Rose sighs. "You could stay." Rose offers. "I don't mean with Nick forever, necessarily. But I mean you could stay here, in Portland. Start over. Be whoever you want."

Trubel nods slowly, letting the idea sink in.

"You'd be welcome. To stay. Another Grimm who doesn't automatically chop off Wesen's heads is a good thing. We...we're trying new things here. And we'd love it if you could be a part of it."

"But only if I help you now, right?"

"No. No, Kid. Even if you can't right now, you can still stay." Rose promises.

Trubel taps her knuckles against the counter —a nervous habit Rose has noticed. "You guys aren't what I expected."

Rose smiles. "Yeah, I know."

"How?"

"It's what I thought, too, when I first got there."

"I'm sorry about everything..." Trubel throws out. "You know at the shop and...and all the stuff ..."

Rose pulls her into a hug. At first, Trubel is stiff and resistant, unsure of where to put her hands. Eventually, she lets her chin rest on Rose's shoulder and she pats her back twice. But Rose doesn't mind; Trubel will learn soon enough. "I know. I know you didn't know. It's okay."

Suddenly, Trubel relaxes a little farther into her until her forehead is resting on Rose's collarbone and her arms are tight around Rose. She's a full head taller than but somehow Trubel's managed to curl herself up into much smaller proportions. Needing to be small and held and kept safe. It was all Rose wanted back

"It's okay..." Rose whispers over and over. "It's all right. It's gonna be okay."

Trubel agrees to help them, after everyone else finds her and Rose nearly in tears in the kitchen. No one talks about it, makes any comments in the state they were found in. But Rose notices how Nick places a steady hand on Trubel's shoulder. How careful he is with her. For a moment, Rose sees Freddy, sees De trying to comfort her, trying to steer her.

She doesn't jump when Monroe settles a hand on her lower back. Instead, she leans in, remembering to let the ghosts pass.

Ian hands Trubel piece of paper and tells her to call Inez. That all she has to do is call and get her to meet. He's got the rest.

Trubel takes her burner cell and dials with shaking hands and waits as it rings and rings on speaker. It clicks on and there's only a slight change of breath on the other end.

"I'm looking for Josh..." Trubel says uncertainly into the phone. "The last time I saw him, he said he was helping you."

Rose recognizes the chuckle that echoes through the phone from anywhere. She looks over at Monroe and grimaces. "Helping?"

"We came here because of you." Trubel accused. "You told him about Nick Burkhardt and now I haven't heard from Josh in a month."

"And it's taken you this long to contact me?"

"It took me this long to scrape together enough for a phone."

"I see that Josh failed."

"You said it was about the baby and how Nick was going to destroy everything..."

"He failed. Nick Burkhardt is still alive. It's not what we agreed on. "

"I can fix it." Trubel says quietly. "Just tell me where to meet you."

"Third and Davis. One hour." The line goes dead.

* * *

><p>From the car, they watch Trubel pace under the streetlight. Rose fists her hand in her jacket. "Calm down, honey..." Rose finds herself muttering. "Sweetie, you have to be cool and calm..."<p>

"She'll be okay. She's survived this long on her own. Besides, Nick and Ian are just waiting for Inez to show up."

Rose sits back against the seat. "And what happens after? When Inez is taken away and Ian goes back to Amsterdam to pander to Meisner? What do we do?"

"Do? Get married like we planned without having to worry about Ian showing up again or Inez doing something awful."

"And after that? We say that we're building something here. You and me and Nick and Hank and Juliette...What if we actually do it? Have some sort of real community outside the Royals or the Resistance or the Council?"

"And we haven't done that already?" Monroe wonders. "Don't you remember Malena? She's alive because of us. I mean, you beat two members of the PWO bloody and threatened the third with a pair of boxcutters. We saved her...we did that. And we can keep doing that" He leans over to her. "If you want."

"I want to." She assures him. "In an official capacity. I've done a lot of damage, and I want to make up for it. Do something my dad would be proud of."

He grips her hand. "I think your dad would be proud no matter what."

Rose's smile drops off as a shadow moves toward Trubel. Inez appears in a pool of streetlight, her hood slightly obscuring her face. But Rose could make her out anywhere. And then Ian steps into the light. And then Nick.

And just like that, it's over.

* * *

><p>Rose doesn't ask Ian what he'll do with Inez, or where he has to take her. It's better that she doesn't know. But he comes by one last time to say his good byes and thank yous.<p>

He shakes Monroe's hand. "I don't know how to thank you, man. Convincing Rosie and Nick..."

Monroe steps back behind Rose. "I didn't do any convincing." He replies. "Have a safe trip." And he vanishes, leaving the two of them.

Ian gazes over at Rose.

"What?"

"It looks good on you, Rosie." Ian says finally.

"If this is another crack about suburbia, I swear I'll knock you out, I remember how."

Ian grins, slow and steady but real too. His eyes even crinkle at the corners like they do when it's a real smile. "Whatever it is. It looks good on you. I'm glad for you. Really."

"I think it's called happy." Rose grips the corner of his sleeve, like she used to when he needed to give her his full attention. "I hope you find it. It'll look good on you, I promise."

He nods. "I'd tell him that he'd better look after you, but..." he shrugs. "DeEtta probably already beat me to it..."

She holds up her hand in farewell. "Be safe. No bullets, okay?"

"No bullets, Love. I promise." And disappears into the early winter darkness. She watches for a few extra seconds, just like when she'd drop him off at the train station. As if standing and watching the empty distance would somehow ensure his safe arrival.

When she goes back inside, she finds Monroe hunched over his worktable. "Did Ian leave?" He wonders, pausing to look up. Rose has to hold back a giggle, noticing that he left his magnifier lenses on.

And she's never been so thankful that she'd chosen to stay, to try her hand at a life she didn't know she wanted. She learned how good life could be when there was someone to reach for in the dark, someone to share curry take out with, someone like him.

Carefully, she slides them off and settles them on the table before perching in his lap. "It looks good on you," she notes with certainty.

"What? My glasses?" he runs a tired hand over his eyes.

"Happy." She kisses him once. "It looks good on you."

He secures his arms around her. "Yeah? You think?"

"No." She lazily runs her fingers through his hair. "I _know_."

* * *

><p>ONLY TWO CHAPTERS LEFT<p>

one last one in this arc and an epilogue


	18. May whatever breaks

Here I come with the last chapter of WtItBL...WHOOO (I promised that it wouldn't be too long of a wait)

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>May whatever breaks be reconstructed by the sea/ with the long labor of its tides./ So many useless things/ which nobody broke/ but which got broken anyway..."~ Pablo Naurda "Ode to Broken Things" **_

* * *

><p>Rose wakes up from a nap one Sunday afternoon (her new favorite pass time on Sunday afternoons lately) in April and suddenly knows which wedding dress she wants. She knows the kind of flowers she wants and she knows that she wants chicken and not fish and then, all at once, the thought of food turns her stomach.<p>

She scrambles off the couch and barely makes it to the bathroom. By the time her stomach is empty, Monroe's up and calling for her. He pokes his head in the door. "I'd ask if you're okay but..."  
>Rose palms her forehead. "Must have been something I ate. I grabbed something from a new food cart on tenth and Columbia for lunch."<p>

He leans against the doorjamb, watching her. "What was it?"

"I don't know but it clearly doesn't like me. Sometimes I wish I would just jump on the veggie wagon. Chances of botulism poisoning go way down when there's no meat in your diet."

"I've tried. But you're stubborn about your bacon."

Her stomach clenches at the word and she leans over. "Oh God," she moans. "Don't say that word to me. Do me a favor and just dump a bunch of bleach everywhere in the kitchen...please? That way I don't have to smell anything. Ever again."

He leans over and kisses the back of her head. "Do you need me to stay? Nick doesn't need me that much. He's almost fluent in German now."

"There's not much for you to do." She wipes her mouth. "I'm just going to be sitting here, hating the food cart guys, myself and the entire universe until it passes."

"I can't just leave you like this."

Rose smiles up at him. "I'm just going to lay down and sleep for a while, I think... I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself."

"Well, that's sort of the point, you know?" He taps her father's watch. "You don't have to."

"And if this is the flu, the last thing I want is for you to get it." She sighs. "This is not fun."

"I know."

"I don't think there's anything left, so I'll try some tea later. I should be fine tomorrow, though."

"Call me if you need anything, alright?"

She gives him a thumbs up and curls up on her side, trying to take deep breaths to quell the roiling of her stomach. Rose rolls onto her other side and tugs her phone out of her pocket. She pulls up her calendar and counts back the days. Once and then twice. And then a third time. And she comes to the realization just as the bile rises up once again.

When she's finished, she brings up Juliette's name and number.

"Hey" Juliette's jovial voice echoes in the bathroom. "I was hoping you'd call! I've got the worst hankering for Grilled Cheese Grill. Wanna come?"

"Oh God no..." Rose moans. "Sorry...I just feel awful and I was wondering if—"

"I could bring you soup?"

"Yeah... And—"

"Ice cream?"

"A pregnancy test?"

There's a sharp intake of breath on the other line. "I'll be there in twenty."

Rose hangs up and curls up, pillowing her head on her hands to wait. She wakes to the sound of knocking at the door. Gingerly, she pulls herself up and lets Juliette in.

"So, I brought two kinds of chicken noodle soup... " Juliette announces as she steps over the threshold. "And ginger ale—the good stuff, with real ginger in it. And some ice cream and..." Juliette holds out the slender box. "And if you're not, I'll eat the ice cream for you until you get over this flu."

Rose can't help but throw her arms around Juliette. To think she once turned her nose up at this. How many years had she wasted on pushing this away? The kind of love that would drop everything to bring her everything she could possibly need. "Thank you," she whispers.

"Aaaw, what are bridesmaids for? How do you feel?"

"Stable now. Not so nauseous. But thirsty." Rose pulls her down to sit in the hallway outside the bathroom.

"Does he know?"

Rose shakes her head. "Had a scare last year, I want to be sure first. Last time it was just stress."

Juliette reaches over and pulls one out of the six-pack and twists off the top. Rose takes a nice long pull and leans her aching head back against the wall. But she waits until Rose sets it back down before she starts again: "Here...this way you can take the test and know one way or another before he gets home."

"Will you stay? I'm not sure I can do this alone and I don't want to tell him unless I know one way or another."

"As long as you want me to." Juliette insists. "Whatever you need."

"You're a good friend." Rose takes another swig. "Sometimes, I stop and look around at the life we have here...and it's good. It's better than I thought it ever would be."

Juliette smiles and cracks open one of the ginger ales for herself and holds it up for a toast. "To all the good things. And that they keep getting better."

"All of the good things." They drink to it. "Every single one."

And it's not long before Rose breaks out the test. And the two minutes drags on and on and on until her phone alarm goes off. With shaking fingers, she picks it up off the counter and stares down at the test—her heart hammering against her ribs. The second little red line is absolutely unmistakable. All at once, she wants to take two more, just to be sure. She looks up at herself in the mirror, trying to find the early softness that arrives with pregnancy. But she looks the same—perhaps, it's just too early. Even by her own calculation, she's probably only eight or nine weeks along.

"Well?" Juliette's voice breaks the spell. "It's been five minutes...I gotta know."

Slowly, Rose opens the bathroom door.

"So?" Juliette prompts.

Rose holds out the test. "Looks like I won't be getting drunk at the wedding."

Juliette claps her hands over her mouth and lets out a little cheer. "You're having a baby!"

Rose nods, pressing one hand against her still flat stomach. "I mean...it could be wrong. I should make an appointment...just to be sure..."

"Are you scared?" Rose looks up at touch of tenderness in Juliette's voice. For a moment, she sounds like Rose did when she asked Adalind if giving birth had been scary.

Rose nods. "We talked about it. That it's something we both want and now that it's here..."

"It's okay to be scared. And you are ready."

"What if...what if I do something wrong? What if I ruin this kid's life? What if I can't do it? What if Monroe decides he doesn't want to anymore? What if something happens to him? And then I'm all alone?"

Juliette reaches out and settles her hands on Rose's shoulder. "Hey... hey, come on. You're going to be a great mom. Monroe is going to be so excited. And Nick is never going to let anything happen to Monroe, especially now."

Rose settles her hands on Juliette's. "It's just so big...bigger than getting married. It's a kid. It's a whole other life that we're responsible for."

Juliette loops her arms around Rose. "And you both are going to be amazing."  
>Rose leans her forehead against Juliette's cheek. "Don't...don't tell anyone yet, okay? I need to tell Monroe first and wrap my head around it."<p>

"Of course...tell us when you're ready; I'll act surprised."

Rose starts to droop, all the excitement and (the not-so morning) sickness had taken the wind out of her sails. Juliette makes her promise to call if she needs anything else and steps out into the rain. Rose settles on the couch and only means to shut her eyes for minute but she comes to when she hears the door open and close. The twilight's fallen all around her and it feels as though she's been asleep for centuries. "_Liebling_?" She calls out. "Monroe, is that you?"

"Did I wake you?"

"No...well, yes...But.." she yawns as he comes over to join her. "I didn't mean to sleep that long. I just...I'm so tired lately. Couldn't keep my eyes open." At least now she knows why.

He presses one hand to her forehead; light and careful like always. "Well, you don't have a fever. You still nauseous?"

"It's mostly gone now. Juliette brought me soup and ginger ale...and ice cream. And I really want grilled cheese all of a sudden."

"Really?"

She shrugs. "I'm not gonna risk it...but I can't get it out of my head."

He cups the side of her face, he runs his thumb over brow bone. She leans into his touch and burrows against his side. "You sure it's not time to go to the doctor? This isn't like you at all."

"I probably should..." She smiles.

"What? Why are we smiling about this?"

"Do you want to come with me?"

He cocks his head to one side, confused. "I can if you want me to...You've never asked me to before."

"It's tradition."

Monroe frowns "I don't understand..." he stops suddenly and grabs her hand. "You're not0..."

Rose nods. "I took the test this afternoon." She takes his hand and places it on her stomach. "I'm...still sort of in shock, I think. But I'm happy, I'm so happy... Are you?"

His smile is the biggest she'd seen so far. He splays his fingers across her stomach in silence for a moment before looking up at her. "How could I be unhappy about any of this?" His other hand curls up over the back of her neck and presses her forehead against hers. "I'm so happy, I don't think there are any words."

Rose burrows against his side. "This is not something I know how to do...I'm a little terrified, to be honest. Well, I go through phases. I was calm after Juliette left but now it's coming back."

"Okay, then...start with the things you do know." He loops his arm around her shoulders.

"First off, I'm cutting out caffeine—"  
>"Seriously? Rose, you without coffee is terrifying."<p>

Rose runs her hand over his. "The baby comes first."

He sighs and pulls her into him as he sits back. "What else are you getting rid of?"

"Well, you know no smoking, or alcohol...soft cheese, sushi, excess grease, unwashed fruit, no uncooked eggs, not even hollandaise sauce," she pats his chest. "And, I know, your hollandaise is the best. I'm going to miss it."

"I was gonna say," he kisses her temple. " 'Damn, there goes that cigar-smoking, vodka-downing sushi dinner with a soft cheese and unwashed fruit plate for dessert I had planned for your birthday.' "

Rose laughs. "You forgot the extra greasy maple bacon bars from Voodoo."

"See, I'm already a terrible husband. I don't know why you're going through with it."

She leans over him. "Dunno. Must be something I like about you."

"I think I'm having that shock you were talking about earlier." He reaches over and touches her stomach again, reverently. "It's surreal."

"It'll pass. And then comes back."

"How is it on the other side?"

"Thirsty... slightly nauseous...completely exhausted all the time, apparently. Only about thirty or so odd weeks to go."

"I wish I could help with that."

"Don't worry about us, we're just getting used to each other."

He grins. " 'Us...' "

"Me and the tadpole. We've still got a while until we find out if it's a girl or a boy and it probably looks a lot like a tadpole at the moment."

He leans over and kisses her again: slow and gentle and careful. "I'm so happy right now, right here. With you. The happiest I'd ever been."

Rose holds him to her. "Me too."

"So, there's no going back now..." He muses. "No regrets?"

"No, I'm right where I want to be."

They decide to keep it to themselves for a while. With the exception of Juliette (and Nick because Juliette had to tell someone). Rose says nothing to her mother and De when they come up to see the final dress fitting. De doesn't even notice. But her mother is smiling so much, Rose just attributes it to the wedding and keeps her mouth shut. Not that they wouldn't understand, but Rose is happy to keep this a secret. Something that's just theirs...for a while, at least.

As the days dwindle down, Rose expected more nerves, terror about the actual ceremony but there's only calm. Besides there are bigger things to worry about now. She tries her hardest to pass it off to Monroe but she catches him pacing when she's not looking.

Two weeks before the wedding, Rose wakes to the light still on. She turns over, squinting at the light. "_Liebling_? What are you still doing up?"

"Can't sleep. Thought maybe I could get some reading done."

Rose sits up and settles her chin on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." He kisses her forehead. "Nothing, go back to sleep. You need it."

"Well, I'm awake now."

He sighs. "You shouldn't worry about me."

"Hey," she jabs his shoulder and flashes her ring "I thought that was the point of all this; that we handle things like this together. Besides, usually, you sleep like a rock. You even snore-"

"I do not!" He insists, closing the book.

"I love you and you do so snore...a little." She taps the book cover. "Now, are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

He sighs. "My parents."

Rose sucks in a deep breath. Just before bed, she reached over and went through his cell phone while he was checking the front door and back door and all the windows, jotting down the number she was looking for and hid it in her book. There's no way they could know. "Did they call?"

"No... No, I thought maybe...I kinda hoped they'd come around. That they'd come to the wedding. But I don't think they will. I think I've finally realized it."

"They might still."  
>He reaches over and settles one hand on her stomach. "Not if they refuse to understand. I'm not going to put him or her through that. I won't. You and this baby come before everything else."<p>

"I'm glad to know that, but you have to sleep, especially because after this baby comes, we are not going to sleep for a year or two or maybe, even three." She urges him and tugs on his hand. "Come on, turn off the light."

Sighing, he does as she suggests. Rose reaches over and grabs his hand. She tucks it under the new, slight curve of her belly as she lies back down on her side. For a moment, his hand is still but then his thumb traces over her skin. She feels him smile against her shoulder and settles into sleep not long after that.

The worst part, though, is the hovering. Then again, she should have known. He makes it a point to drop in to see her everyday, for a while, he brings her lunch or helps her move the big boxes (even the small ones, he literally refuses to let her get up when he's around) and now she just expects him everyday around two.

Some days, when her back aches or her headache is threatening to spiral out of control, it takes every ounce of self control to not snap that she is plenty capable of taking care of herself, and if he so much as says the word 'delicate' within a five mile radius of her, his death will look like an accident and she won't be sorry at all.

And then, she leans back and there he is, waiting to catch her. His hand settles on her waist and he sighs in contentment. And it sort of makes up for his incessant worrying and planning.

But she has to plan out the phone call she's not sure how to make. One morning, before Monroe arrives and the shop is oddly quiet, Rose checks over her shoulder one last time before she clicks 'call.' As expected, it goes directly to voicemail: "This is Bart. If you leave your name and number I'll get back to you as soon as possible. _Beep_."

"Um...Hi. I know I'm the last person you'd want to talk to right now. Monroe doesn't know I'm calling. I don't know how much he's told you but I thought you should know that we're getting married in a week..." She takes a deep breath for the next part.

"I know you don't approve at all. But he misses you both. And he needs you... I'm... I'm pregnant. About two months or so...

"It would mean the world to him if you came to the wedding. You don't have to call back and you don't have to come. But just know...that you're the only grandfather this kid is ever going have."

She clicks off and exhales, tapping the phone against her lip before she sets it down. Her hand settles on her stomach, as if assuring the little creature that everything would be all right. Even if she wasn't entirely sure how, yet.

The bell above the door rings out and Rose casts a weary smile towards the door. Monroe, smiling and sure, is there right on schedule. His smile falters, though, when he catches sight of her. "What? What's wrong?"

"Hmmm? Nothings wrong. I was just thinking is all."

"About what?"

"That I should have taken a lot more pictures of myself because," she gestures to her expanding waist and sighs. She can hide the bump with thick cardigans and well-placed bags but very soon, it'll be impossible. "Because I am never going to look like that again. Ever. Obviously, I didn't think this all the way through"

He kisses her cheek and whispers: "So, you forgot where we put those pictures from our first weekend together?"

"You know I haven't." Rose crosses her arms over her chest and smirks.

* * *

><p>On her wedding day, her alarm clock goes off at five with an accompanying text from her Matron of Honor: <em>We'll be there in half an hour. Be ready or else.<em>

Slowly, she drags herself out of bed, pausing to let her feet hang over the edge for a moment. Strangely, the day doesn't feel much different than any other. Other than the fact that she's the one up early instead of him.

She twists over her shoulder to see him still sleeping soundly. In the last week, he's calmed down exponentially. Even Nick's noticed the change, but then again, he knows. Slowly and quietly, she gets up and showers just as the sun's coming up. She's checking her bag over for the very last time, when he finally comes down the stairs.

"You're so lucky..." She growls and throws her still wet hair up into a bun. "Just get to get up and go." She leans in to kiss him just as her phone goes off. But it's soon forgotten because it feels like any other morning and she's about to head off to work. His hands settle on her hips and draw her in.

Finally, there's a honk from Dee's car in the driveway that finally makes her pull away. "I'll see you in a few hours. I'll be the one in the dress."

"You sure it's gotta be that long?" He hauls her back for another.

"Oh no...no...no..." she dodges him. "I'm already late. De is not going to be happy." She gathers up her bags.

"But it's our day..." he reasons as he grabs the door.

"And I want to live to see it." She reasons as she dashes down the steps to the car where she finds Trubel sandwiched between Juliette and Rose's mother's excited chatter.

De just sighs in the driver's seat. "Come on, let's go before the Baby Grimm flips out and kills us all." De nudges a coffee cup toward her. "I need someone else to be sane today."

"I can't," Rose insists and hands it back to Trubel, who starts inhaling it right away. "Nerves..."

Dee shoots her a harsh glance. "Yeah, okay...you're the bride, what you say goes."

Later, as her mother's putting the finishing touches on her hair, she leans over Rose's shoulder. "How for along are you?"

"How far along for what?" Rose stupidly wonders. She turns to look for support from Juliette but then remembers that Juliette is in the other hall, making sure everyone's tie is straight and no one got a head start on the thirty year old scotch that someone (Hank) has been suspected of bringing. Her sister's checking to be sure the Justice arrived and the food's on its way. Malena's with her aunt, getting her wild hair to be wild in a way that doesn't take over the inevitable pictures.

Her mother lays a hand on her bare shoulder. "You thought I wouldn't notice?"

Rose smiles. "We wanted to keep it quiet for a while. Make sure there aren't any complications...you know how that happens sometimes. With...parents like us..."

"But it's healthy?"

"The doctor says so."

"And you're taking care of yourself? Not overdoing it?"

"He won't let me lift my hand over my head."

Her mother smiles. "Good." She runs her hand down Rose's cheek. "Are you happy about it?"

"You told me once that you loved me before I had a name. And I love the tadpole..." She settles her hand on the bump, cleverly hidden in the folds of her dress. "We don't know what it'll be or who it'll look like and... it just doesn't matter."

Her mother's about to say something else, when De sticks her head in "Um...Rosie? Some people want to talk to you real quick."

"Who?" Rose tucks a loose strand of hair behind her hear. "How are we related to them?"

De slips in and closes the door behind her. "Um...they say they're Monroe's parents... I thought they weren't speaking..."

"They're kind of not...Just give me a second, okay?" Rose slips out the door before anyone can stop her. She checks over her shoulder and tiptoes around the hallways where she can hear Nick and Hank's voices, knowing that Monroe is nearby. She doesn't believe in luck, but why risk it?

She finds them huddled against the entrance hall. Alice catches sight of her first and her expression melts from uncertainty to awe.

"We didn't think you'd come." Rose starts out.

"We..."Alice looks back at her husband and her smile falters. "I tried to call so many times. And I couldn't find the words." Alice reaches out and clasps Rose's hand in hers. "We just... we just wanted to say that we're sorry for what we said."

Rose looks to Bart, eyes narrowed. "Are you? Because if you're not, I'm not going to watch you break his heart again."

Bart rocks on his heels once and then twice. "You told me that I'm going to be a grandfather...the only one this kid is going to have...Couldn't let him down."

Rose settles her free hand on her stomach. "We don't know if it's a boy or a girl yet."

He sighs. "I meant my son." He nods at her. "You were right...I haven't seen him this happy in a very long time. And that is a direct result of having you in his life."

"We're so sorry, dear. We'd hoped you'd be willing to give us another try."

"You should go see him." Rose replies and points them down the hallway. "He'd want to talk to you first."

Alice leads the way and as Bart passes her, he pauses and looks down at her left hand. "He was right; it looks good on you."

"And it's never coming off." She promises.

* * *

><p>Rose watches as the reception unfold around them. Her mother and Alice chatting like they're old friends already. Dee watches Bart and Monroe talk every time Hank twirls her closer to the tables. She even gives Bart the I'm-watching-you gesture over Hank's back. And then she goes back to being smitten with Hank. And vice versa. Rose caught them in a supply closet after meeting with Monroe's parents and as Hank walked her down the aisle, Rose whispered: "If you break my big sister's heart, I'll kill you."<p>

"I expect nothing less." He grinned back.

Nick and Juliette settle into a cozy corner, his arm draped across her shoulders as she teases him mercilessly about the sunglasses. Malena, who's grown three inches in the time since Rose saw her last, is sitting with Trubel. Every so often, Trubel will lift her sunglasses and Malena will squeal in equal parts terror and delight, but she's smiling the whole time.

Monroe joins her in the doorway, watching the party. "Has it hit you yet?" He wonders.

She glances down to see the new addition on her left hand beside her engagement ring and then to the matching on his hand. "Some days all of this feels unreal. Did you work things out with your parents? I saw that they stayed. Your mom even cried a little."

"They said you called...and told them. Mom says she listened to the message about fifty times." He grips her hand.

"And your dad?"

"He's coming around, I think. He's excited about the kid but this is all new to him and he'll probably still say...things without meaning to."

"We'll figure it out." Rose slips her arm into the crook of his. "All of us." She leans her head against his shoulder, remembering the vows from earlier:

He took both her hands in hers as a hush settled over their gathered friends and families. "I remember look at you for the first time and thinking that you'd be nothing but trouble. And I was right. But it's the best kind of trouble I could have ever hoped for. Even, though you sort of used that against me, almost on this exact date two years ago.

Rose smiles at the memory.

"And I remember worrying when you went away, that you'd be the one that got away. And that I'd spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been. When you came back, I knew I couldn't mess this up. Because you're not at all what I imagined, you're even more. I'm looking forward to getting lost with you."

She had a speech all prepared and ready to go, De was shoving her notecards at her. Rose just shook her head. She knew none of those words work.

"I'm not used to being wrong. In fact, I'm right most of the time..." everyone laughed. "I know a lot of things: I know how to leave and how be alone.

"But you came along and ruined everything I thought I knew. And I'm so glad. You are my anchor, my safe haven and sometimes...a lot of the time, my compass.

"I have always accepted the fact that nothing can last forever. That things fade or break because everything's meant to." She gripped his hands in hers. "But now I know that they can remain whole and that they can shine. Now, I know that some things can last."

* * *

><p>ONLY THE EPILOGUE LEFT-if I can actually finish it. I have now re-written it three times because it wasn't enough.<p>

soon, friends. Soon...


	19. Epilogue: Let Evening Come

Literally so sweet, it'll rot your teeth, as promised.

*Sighs* cute epilogues are my favorite.

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all

* * *

><p><em><strong>Let the stars appear and the moon disclose her silver horn./ Let the fox go back to its sandy den./ Let the wind die down. Let the shed/ go black inside. Let evening come."- Jane Kenyon "Let Evening Come."**_

* * *

><p>Eli's fever stays stubbornly between ninety-nine and a hundred, taunting them for the past two days. Eli leans against her shoulder and whispers: "One more chapter?" His voice soft from lying in bed all day and being bundled to try to sweat out the fever.<p>

Rose doesn't have it in her to deny her sick five-year-old son anything, so she turns another page and keeps reading, ignoring the growing tickle in the back of her throat and the ache that making a home behind her eyes.

She gets to a section break and glances over at Eli, glad to see that he's finally, _finally_, dropped off to sleep after an hour of reading from the second Harry Potter book.

Reaching over, she lays her palm across her son's forehead; there's still a bit of heat and she hopes it'll finally break tonight. Rose runs her fingers through his dark curly, hair, her thumb tracing the tiny pink shell of an ear. Her perfect little miracle. For a moment, she's tempted to burrow down next to him, pull him into her arms to feel his tiny heart beat against her ribs again, to know that he's safe.

The first time they laid the tiny, squalling, and viscera-covered being in her arms, Rose recognized that heartbeat right away. She knew this little alien-looking creature, that bore no resemblance to what she and Monroe had been imagining over the previous nine months, was hers —from the top of his already curly head, down to his ten toes. And once he stopped crying, and his dark brown eyes focused on hers, Rose was totally at peace as she slid her finger into his tiny hand. Slowly, he squeezed, awkwardly taking stock of his digits and limbs.

"Look at that," Monroe whispered, amazed and if she wasn't mistaken, a little teary. To be honest, she'd sort of forgotten that he was there. Even if she had almost broken his hand during those last contractions. "He's got your eyes."

"Yeah..." she breathed, amazed, running her thumb over the baby's acorn sized knuckle. "Yeah, he does." She clutched him a little tighter.

Her mother suggested they name him George, Dee suggested Samuel after their grandfather, Freddy even. Alice and Bart suggested Klaus and Franz after several prominent members of their family. But in the end, they decided that they wanted didn't want to name him after anyone, for him to make his own way, without the burden of any past.

They spent the first two days of his life barely setting him down for a minute as Nick, Hank, Juliette and Trubel took turns reading from baby name books. None of them fit until Juliette stumbled across Elias. Rose looked down at her son and smiled. "I like it. Elias. Eli."

She leans over and kisses the place where her hand just was and pulls the covers up over his shoulders. She turns out the bedside lamp and tiptoes out the door, shutting it behind her with a small click. _Finally_. She leans back against the wall.

Then, she hears Ingrid mooing downstairs (several octaves too high to be convincing) and Rose finds the energy to push herself off the wall.

In the kitchen, that's only now half filled with boxes (as opposed to filled), her one and half year old daughter points to a page in her picture book and moos again. She turns toward the doorway when Rose walks in and reaches out for her. Rose scoops her daughter up out of the playpen and settles her baby on her hip. "Are you telling Daddy what sound a cow makes?"

"And a sheep and a rooster and a horse...but she's especially good at the cow." Monroe chimes in.

As if to prove the point, Ingrid moos again, louder this time. Rose places a gentle finger over her mouth. "We have to be quiet, _Andenken*_. Your brother's finally sleeping."

"Has his fever broken yet?" Monroe wonders.

"No, not yet. How's she been for you?" Rose wonders.

"Good. Perfectly content with her book for the last twenty minutes or so. Which is abnormal. I think she's still recovering." It had been Ing who brought the virus home from a playdate with Nick's daughter, Maxine. She'd woken up crying and burning with fever and terrifying Rose to no end. For three days, she didn't want to eat, or sleep and would only be calm when held- which made every other task difficult while hauling a one and a half year old around.

Ingrid reaches out toward the stove and makes grabby hands.

"At least she's hungry again. What are we having?"

"Soup? Since everyone's sick? And grilled cheese."

"Not everyone. You're not, I'm not."

He turns to her. "You think I can't hear it? And you're really pale."

Rose rolls her eyes. "It's November, almost December and none of us have seen the sun in a while. And we just moved and it was just Thanksgiving." She leans her forehead against his shoulder. "And I'm just tired."

"Oh I know," He wraps a free hand around her and, in a rare moment, Ingrid settles her chin on Rose's shoulder and lets out a sigh. "I know. Rough couple of weeks."

Rose smiles, laying one hand on Ingrid's back and rocking her back and forth. "I'm just glad the worst is over."

"I certainly hope so."

"...hope so..." Ing echoes quietly.

Rose presses her lips against the top of her daughter's head. "Me too, _Andenken._"

"You know, one of these days, she's going to figure out what her nickname means." He laughs and turns off burners.

"Well, she's going to be able to do math at some point, so she'll know. It's not like we're going to try and hide it." She replies and settles her daughter in her high chair.

"She's the best souvenir we brought back."

"Even better than the chocolate?"

"Yeah, I think so." He kisses her over a bowl of soup.

They're in the middle of discussing tomorrow's meeting when Elias appears in the doorway, his favorite stuffed turtle stuck under one arm. "Is that soup?" He wonders, blinking up at them like a little owl. He was never much of an early riser and he slept through the night at six months

"Yeah, _Lamm*_."

"You were having soup without me?" He accuses, a little quiver in his voice. He regards them a minute, eyes narrowed. And so much like Monroe, she wants to laugh.

"Kiddo, you were out...you haven't slept in a few days." Monroe reasons. "You needed it."

"I'm hungry now..."

"Well, come on." Rose pulls out his chair and gets him set up.

"How do you feel?" Monroe wonders as he tears Ingrid's sandwich up into bite sized pieces.

Eli looks down at himself and sighs. "Sweaty."

Rose sets a bowl of soup and half a sandwich in front of him and feels his forehead. She grins over at her husband. "His fever finally broke."

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Bud."

Eli regards him sleepily and dives into the tomato soup Rose set before him.

"Soup and then back to bed," she orders.

"Will you read me another chapter?" He wonders.

"After the three I already read to you today?" Rose wonders. "I think you've had enough Harry Potter for one day."

"But...but I'm sick." He pouts.

"Yeah, Rose...he's sick..." Monroe goads.

"Well, _you_ can read him another chapter, then. And I'll put Ing to bed." She points to her daughter who's half asleep on a pile of grilled cheese pieces.

* * *

><p>*<em> Andenken<em> –Keepsake

*_Lamm_- Lamb

* * *

><p>When her alarm goes off the next morning, everything aches. The headache that settled between her eyes last night migrated to the back of her head, reaching all the way to the front and down her neck. Her throat is on fire and she can't seem to gather enough blankets to knock out the chill that settled in her joints. She groans into her pillow and tries to find the will to move. He pulls her in close and kisses the back of her head and she practically yelps at the shock of the movement.<p>

"_Liebling_? You okay?"

She shakes her head and regrets it. "You were right..." she moans. "...Sick..."

His hand cups her forehead and bless him, he doesn't laugh. "_Liebling_, you're burning up."

Ingrid starts to talk to herself over the baby monitor She hasn't cried herself awake in months- with the exception of earlier this week. And listening to Ingrid's baby talk is the only thing that rouses her.

"No, I got her. Go back to sleep."

A minute or two later, she can hear him through the monitor and her head drops back down against the pillow.

Later, the sun's come up and the house is unusually quiet, she wakes to the smell of peppermint, chamomile with a hint of honey. And a small presence that hovers near and won't leave.

"_Lamm*_?" She wonders, cracking one eye open.

"Mama...Are you sick?" Eli wonders. "Daddy says you need tea and extra z's."

"Yeah," Rose sits up and takes a sip and smiles as it eases the tension in her throat. "Yeah, I'm sick. I had what you and Ing had."

Eli sighs in relief. "Not another baby?"

Rose snorts into her tea. She wipes at her face and chuckles. When she was suffering a particularly bad bout of morning sickness with Ingrid, Eli would spend days lounging in bed with her, keeping her company. And worrying over her, as he was wont to do. "No, _Lamm_. Not another baby. You and Ing are quite enough."

"Okay..."

Smiling, she sits up and pulls back the covers. "Do you want to sit with me while I finish my tea?"

Without further provocation, he clambers up beside her. He tucks his head under her chin while she leans back against the headboard, one hand gripping her tea mug and the other running through his curly hair. "How do you feel, _Lamm_?" Rose wonders.

"Better. Much better." He leans against her shoulder. "I think it was the book."

"Yeah? You think?"

He nods. "I like listening to you and Daddy read to me."

"But you can read all by yourself."

Eli tilts his head back so he can look her full in the face. "But I still like it."

"Good," she gives him a little squeeze. "Because I do, too."

"When you're not sick."

"Of course." She takes a long sip of tea and holds it in the back of her throat for a minute.

"Is Bell coming over tonight?"

"No, I think I'm going to stay home with you two, since I don't want to get anyone else sick. Uncle Nicky needs Bell at the meeting anyway."

"Oh..." He sighs despondently.

Rose had always found it funny that Eli, from day one, had been the Worrier, the minder. He was so serious sometimes that Rose wanted to kiss him silly. Guiltily, though, she wonders if all the worry she'd had carrying him had somehow transferred. As if he'd been able to sense that the world was a terrifying place before he was born. Which it was, of course. They worked hard, though, to try to ease that fear.

But he loved Trubel (called 'Bell' since Eli could talk and now Ing had picked up on the nickname). Somehow, that seriousness fell way the moment she stepped through the door. He'd run at her and she'd catch him and call him "Little Man."

Ingrid, on the other hand, laughed first and asked questions later. Not even Nick's daughter, Maxine, laughed as much as Ing. She was fearless, too. Taking her first step at eight months and running by her first birthday. But small, elfin in her features and barely hitting twenty pounds soaking wet, Ing never seemed to consider her own size. She barreled through everything and everyone. And it terrified Rose on a daily basis.

"She's fearless," her mother commented over Thanksgiving weekend. "Like you."

Just after Eli and Monroe's birthday and before the radio fills the shop and the house and the car with carols, they take off to the Oregon coast for Thanksgiving, inviting their whole family, and they do mean everyone, to join them in a place with only good memories. It's become a tradition for everyone to spend the weekend in a big house and just relax.

"Don't say that." Rose groaned. "For the love of God, don't say that."

"Whether or not you want it to be true, it is. She's just like you."

Rose hung her head. "I know."

"If this is about your sneaking out and the drugs and everything with your sister and I, I wouldn't worry."

"Why not?"

"Because you will be able to say all the things I didn't have the words for. I had no idea how to talk to you. And you knew I didn't know how. And you were so angry with me for not knowing."

"Mom, I-"

"No, no. I'm not saying it's all right, I'm saying that you will be able to talk to them about the things I never could."

Ing appeared next to them, watching their serious expressions when she reached up for Rose. Rose bent down and gathered her daughter up in her lap. Rose should have known then that Ing wasn't being herself.

"Eli? There you are." Monroe pokes his head through the door. "How do you feel?"

"Achy still, but not as awful. Besides, someone came in to cuddle with me."

"So, I see," he sits on the edge of the bed. "I called Eloise and asked her to come by and help you get the kids to bed."

"I figured she'd be with Trubel tonight. How much did you promise to pay her?"

"If you think I bribed Eloise...you're absolutely right."

"Daddy? What does bribe mean?" Eli wonders.

"It means that I love you enough not to leave you alone with your mom when she's running a fever."

"I'm not that bad, I promise." Rose insists.

"But you need to sleep—"

And then the doorbell rings Ingrid squeals from her playpen and even Eli perks up. He scrambles off Rose's lap and heads for the stairs. "Just...just hold that thought." He warns her.

She flops back against the pillow and closes her eyes again. Just as she's about to drift off, she hears: "Hey Rose...We've got company."

"If it's Juliette and Max, it's all their fault we've become a plague house." Rose hollers back.

"That's not who's here..."

"Then who...?" Rose slips on her bathrobe and slowly pulls herself up and out of bed. Monroe's holding Ingrid, who's reaching for the tallest figure in black. And then Monroe hands her over. The hood falls back to reveal Kelly Burkhardt. The two other figures, a shorter blonde and a girl who couldn't be more than eight or nine, dirty blonde with darting dark blue, almost black eyes.

"Rosalee...It's good to see you." Kelly greets her, her voice just as gravelly and her scars just as prominent.

Rose stops on the last stair and pulls the bathrobe a little tighter. "Nick didn't tell us that you'd be in town..."

All the harshness in her completely melts as Ing reaches a curious hand up to explore her face. "I tell him what he needs to know. You remember Adalind?" She nods to the woman to her right. And it's true, although her hair's been artfully cut and there are lines that were there the last time Rose saw her, its Adalind. "And Diana...though she's grown since you saw her last."

The girl stands between them. "Kelly says I stayed here once, when I was really little. But I don't remember." Her voice, though small, is sure and confident with just a hint of an accent that Rose can't place anywhere.

"Well, it wasn't this house," Rose sniffs. "We just moved here about a week ago. But yes, we met when you were very, very small."

"I think you might have been ten days old," Monroe chimes in.

Diana squints at Rose. "Are you sick?"

"We've all kinda been sick lately."

"I can fix it for you."

"You can?"

"Diana...we've talked about this." Adalind warns.

"But she helped me once, shouldn't I return the favor?"

"Fine, but make it quick."

Delighted, Diana holds out her pointer finger to Rose. "Hold still please." Diana touches Rose on the forehead with her pointer finger and breathes out, eyes closed. There's a rush of warmth and Diana opens her eyes, glowing purple for a minute. She pulls her finger back. "I think that did it. Do you feel better?"

"A little," Rose lies and tries not to sniff. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Looks like you have a shadow." Adalind nods towards the stairs where Eli half hides behind Monroe.

Monroe settles one hand on Eli's head. "Eli, can you say hi to Uncle Nicky's mom? And her friends, Adalind and Diana?"

Eli stares at Kelly and then over to Monroe and disappears even more.

"He's a little shy," Rose admits.

"Clearly not something he inherited from his mother." Kelly notes. "Not like this one." She tweaks Ingrid's nose and Ingrid's laughter peals out like a bell.

"So, what brings you all back to Portland?" Monroe wonders.

"You, actually." Adalind settles her hands on Diana's shoulders. "We heard about something called 'the Community' while we were in DC. That they don't answer to the Laufer or the Royals and how so many _Grundfalsch_ couples live in the open here. We thought maybe it was time to come back."

Diana rocks on her heels excitedly. "Mum says that my dad still lives here."

"He...he does." Rose confirms. "And he's coming to the Meeting tonight."

Diana half screeches. "Can we come too? Please?"

Rose looks to Adalind first, looking for encouragement. She gives Rose a small nod. "Of course you can. Anyone's welcome to come."

Diana turns to her mother. "Mum... please? Please can we go? I'll be really careful and I won't do anything! I swear!"

"We'll talk about it, okay?"

Kelly offers Ingrid bad to Rose. "We should go. We just wanted to drop in and say 'hello.' And that we'd see you later."

Ingrid waves them off. Monroe settles one hand on her lower back. "So, do you feel any better?"

"Actually..." Rose sniffs again, the ache shedding from her bones. The room is losing its dream-like quality and her head feels lighter. "Actually, I do. A lot better."

* * *

><p>For what it is, Meeting Night has oddly become one of her favorite nights. They only call it that because they haven't figured a better name- or at least, nothing too suspicious. The PWO had paid Portland a second visit when Eli was a year old. They were trailing a Faulien and an Eisbeber who'd been on the run all the way from New Mexico. Rose remembers holding Eli close when Nick had brought them by and she saw what Malena's parents never had: help. She called everyone she could, telling Monroe "They're looking for weak spots and they aren't going to find one. Not this time."<p>

And then, they vanished. The couple that had been on the run found an apartment thanks to Camilla, Rose's Balam friend, and jobs thanks to the Portland Eisbeber Lodge. But the Meetings stuck. Anyone was welcome to come and air grievances or ask for help. Just like she wanted, they didn't answer to the Council or the Resistance, often solving problems on their own. Usually, Nick or Trubel was there. Hank or Wu most weeks but Rose found that she and Monroe were called to the Meeting every week. They had been approached by more Grundfalsch couples that came out of the woodwork since the original pair had settled here.

Suddenly, there were playgroups and co-op daycare (and more business than she knew how to handle) and teenage Wesen girls and boys who begged to babysit Eli and Ingrid or to sweep up in the shop or help her unload her orders when they come in. All she has to pay them is a few bucks and give them some of her time. Suddenly, Rose realized, there was a community (and that's what they've been calling it for the last year 'Community') here.

Tonight, though, she got to witness a father meeting his daughter for the first time. She watched through the crowds as the Captain knelt down in front of Diana and clasped one of her tiny hands in his huge ones. Diana beamed as if it were her birthday.

But beyond fellowship, the Meeting days mean they get a break from the kids and go out to dinner afterward, just the two of them. They don't talk about the kids or the Community. And it's nice to just sit with him and be reminded that there's more than the never-ending pile of laundry and dishes and homework to review. They linger over dessert, fingers intertwining like it's the first date all over again. But it's getting late and while Rose feels like a million bucks, she really shouldn't risk it.

"...And you feel better? Seriously? It's not just like a placebo effect or something?" He wonders, coming down from checking on the kids.

"I feel totally normal." She promises as she opens up another box. "Like I was never sick to begin with. I wish she'd showed up a week ago to keep Max from getting sick." She turns to him, waiting for a snarky come back or a smile. But he only stares down into the box, mindlessly pulling clocks out and setting them aside. "_Liebling_? You seem sad all of a sudden. What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing..." he shrugs.

"Liebling, we've been together almost eight years, you don't think I know when you're upset?" Rose reaches out and runs her hand down the back of his head he notices how much grey has accumulated around his temples and in his beard. "I told you I'm fine. The kids are fine. It was just a little virus, that's all." She leans over to press a kiss to his ear and winds her arm around him.

While Eli's birth had been according to plan and normal on all fronts, Ing's had not been. The day itself is still fuzzy for her, but she remembers the alarms suddenly going off and the pain that ripped its way through her. She thinks she screamed but the last thing she remembers is Monroe being ushered out and them places the oxygen mask over her nose.

When she woke again, Monroe was there, running his thumb over her forehead, whispering nonsensical things to her. She'd never seen him so pale and terrified as she did then. Even now, when the kids get sick, she can see the worry behind his eyes and she has to remind him that they aren't made of glass.

"Oh, it's not that at all..." he murmurs against her hair.

"What's wrong then? You were so quiet during dinner..."

He shakes his head. "I...just keep thinking about how the Captain looked at Diana. You know... and how much he missed. Her first words and her first steps-"

"And the three am cries."

"All of that. Everything... She's almost eight and he doesn't know her at all. And he's a complete stranger to her." She thinks of how tightly he held Ingrid when they got home and how he kissed Eli on the forehead and sat watching him sleep for a good ten minutes. "And how glad I am that I got all of it. With both of them. And with you." He settles on hand on her cheek.

"Is this a weird way of saying thanks for not giving birth to the 'Chosen One'?" She laughs.

"Little bit, yeah."

"You don't need a 'Chosen One' child?"

"Nope. I sorta like the ones we have." He shrugs and kisses her. "Just the way they are."

"Yeah? Me, too." She kisses him back. "Come on, let's get this room finished. I'm really tired of living out of boxes."

"Okay, new deal: one room a day until we're totally unpacked?"

"Half a room? We do still have children under the age of eight. And jobs and need to sleep at some point."

"Deal."

Rose stands to finish lining the fireplace mantel with the pictures. There's one of the entire wedding party and one of just the two of them from behind, watching the reception. And one of them and tiny baby Eli. One of the two of them in front of the gigantic astronomical clock in Prague, a delayed honeymoon when Eli was three. Another of just Monroe and three-month-old Ingrid sleeping on the couch together, roughly a year after the trip. He pulls out another one of Bart holding seven month old Ingrid on his lap, Santa hat askew with his free arm around Rose.

She pulls out the last one from the box and smiles. She places it at the very center of the collage of their children, friends and family, in the very center of their strange life together. Its the one he gave her for their first Christmas together; the pair of them walking through Portland International Airport, hand-in-hand, totally immersed in one another.

"What do you think?"

He wanders over and loops his arms around her waist from behind, settling his chin on her shoulder. "I like it. It looks like home."

"Feels like it, too." She lazily drapes one arm around his neck.

She's made a list — as she watched her skin stretch with both Eli and Ingrid, with every contraction and every time she sneaks peeks at their serenely, sleeping faces — of all the things she wants to tell them when they're old enough. You will stumble and fall, but we will catch you. You'll make mistakes and we will love you no matter what. You will get lost and you will not ask for help. But sometimes, she'll tell them, that's how you find so many good things.

* * *

><p><strong>The End<strong>

* * *

><p>and another story done.<p>

*TAKES A VERY LARGE STRETCH*

Thank you friends who have stuck around this long. You are all lovely folks and I am so glad to have gotten to know some of you and I'm glad you like my words

I have no plans for anymore FF at the moment. I can't say if I'll be inspired again, but in the mean time I'll be working on my novel that I wrote in July. I'll be back for the occasional one-shot

As always,

Happy Reading

T.R.P.D.


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